


Notes in the Margins

by Rhiannon87



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Car Sex, Cuddling, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, Oral Sex, PWP, Phone Sex, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Nate/Elena PWP fic. Some of it is fluffy relationship stuff. Most of it's porn. None of it has any kind of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena's got three things on her post-adventure to-do list: take a shower, put on clean clothes, and get laid by Nathan Drake. Check, check, and...

Elena had thought she'd be exhausted by the time they got back to the hotel in Panama, but apparently she'd slept better on the boat than she realized. She's taken the best shower of her _life_ (forty-five minutes under scalding hot water that went from black to grey to finally clear), dressed in clean clothes, and now she's on her way to item number three on her post-adventure to-do list: Nathan Drake. She likes him, he certainly seems to like her, and to be blunt, she really just wants to jump him. What that might lead to, if anything, is a concern for another time.

Elena stops outside his door and takes a deep breath before knocking. Hopefully she's not waking him up. That would be awkward. There's rustling noises and footsteps from inside, then the sound of every lock available being undone before the door swings open. Nate's post-adventure routine is clearly similar to her own-- his hair's still damp and sort of spiky from the shower, and he's changed into a worn white t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans. Elena catches herself licking her lips and gives him a crooked smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles back and raises an eyebrow at her expectantly.

Elena nods at the room behind him. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Nate moves back to let her in, then shuts the door. “Need something?”

Oh, she couldn't have asked for a better setup. “Yeah, actually, I do.” Elena takes a step closer to him and grabs the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It takes all of two heartbeats for Nate to get over his surprise and respond; he _growls_ , low in the back of his throat, and crowds her back against the door, his hands sliding down her arms as he kisses her hungrily. It's not their first kiss, or even their second-- their first had been on the boat on the way back to Panama, and then once they'd arrived, they'd spent a nice half hour making out on the dock while waiting for Sully to come back with a truck. And those had been good, but this time, there’s _intent_ behind it.

Plus, there’s no audience to keep her from sliding her hands under his shirt.

Nate chuckles breathlessly when they finally part. “Not wasting any time, are we,” he mutters. Elena smirks and tugs at his shirt in a wordless demand. He obediently yanks it off over his head, and then Elena has to take a few seconds to just stare because god _damn_ he's ripped and she needs to put her mouth all over that. Nate grins, clearly pleased by her reaction, and Elena tugs him closer so she can trail biting kisses along his collarbone. She slides her hands across his chest, mapping out muscle and scars with her palms, and a shiver runs down her spine at the strangled, gasping noises Nate makes in response.

He fumbles with the locks, cursing when he can't get them fast enough; once the door is secured, he spins her around and starts walking them towards the bed. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, Elena doesn't quite have the coordination to manage walking backwards and kissing Nate at the same time. She almost trips over her own feet and grabs at his waist to keep from falling. “Oops,” she mutters, giggling.

Nate just takes advantage of the pause to tug her shirt off, and Elena can feel heat creeping across her skin as he rakes her with his gaze. Then things come screeching to a halt when he frowns and takes half a step backwards, which is the exact opposite of what she wants. “Nate, what's--”

He answers by silently brushing his fingers against the ugly purple bruise in the shape of Navarro's fist, right below her ribs. He looks horrified, and Elena winces. The earlier staring was way, way better than this.

She puts two fingers under his chin and tilts his head up until he's looking at her face. “I'm fine,” she says. Nate's gaze flicks downward again, as if he doesn't quite believe her, and Elena lets her hand trail down his chest. “Really.” It isn't all that bad. And she'll be damned if a few bruises keep her from getting laid.

Nate searches her face for a moment, then nods and leans down to kiss her. Elena pushes herself up on tiptoe to meet him halfway. He's slow and thorough about it this time, and she slides her arm around his waist, her chest pressed against his and his skin almost feverishly hot everywhere they touch. This time, she moves them back to the bed, and she only lets go of him when her legs hit the mattress.

Nate's staring again as she scoots up towards the pillows. Elena halfway wants to cover the bruise, keep it from ruining the mood, but he seems to have gotten over his concern about it, going by the look of open want on his face. “This isn't a museum,” she teases when he doesn't move to follow her. “You can touch.”

“I never paid attention to those signs anyway,” he says, smirking, and crawls up onto the bed.

“Somehow, that's not surprising,” Elena replies.

Nate just grins as he covers her body with his, resting his weight on one elbow as he leans down to kiss her-- then jerks back with a pained wince. “Dammit,” he mutters and starts fumbling with his belt. Elena bites her lip to keep from snickering. She's only partially successful. Nate shoots her a half-wounded look. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The belt hits the floor with an audible thwack, and Nate all but tackles Elena into the pillows. She loops her arms around his neck, a soft moan escaping her when he slides his tongue past her lips. They're both gasping when they part; Elena hooks one leg around Nate's and flips them over, landing with her knees on either side of his hips. He looks fantastic, panting for breath and sprawled out under her. Nate gives her a once-over in return and grins. “Enjoying the view?”

Of course, she's not obligated to feed his ego. She shrugs and feigns nonchalance. “It's all right.”

He makes a face. “'All right,' she says, you've gotta be--”

She covers his mouth with hers to cut off the rest of his complaints. Nate slides his hands down her sides, then up her back, stopping oh-so-casually at the clasp of her bra. “Real subtle, Nate,” Elena murmurs against his lips. He smirks and undoes the hook with a twist of his fingers. As soon as she's tossed her bra aside, Nate's hands are on her breasts, calloused palms grazing over her skin.

“Oh, god,” Elena gasps, her eyes falling shut. Nate brushes his lips against hers, and she cradles the back of his head, holding him in place so she can deepen the kiss. He groans into her mouth, then grabs her hip and rolls her onto her back. Elena tangles her fingers in his hair as he moves down her body, his mouth hot on her skin, biting and sucking and no doubt leaving marks that she might bother to be embarrassed about tomorrow. She moans and arches her back when he flicks his tongue over a nipple, digging her fingers into the mattress instead of his shoulders.

Nate slowly shifts lower, mapping out her body with his mouth, though he's careful to avoid the bruise on her stomach. He makes quick work of the zipper on her shorts, his tongue tracing along her skin just above her waistband, and a small part of her is pretty sure she's just hit the jackpot. A hot guy who voluntarily goes down on the first hookup isn't exactly a common thing, after all.

The rest of her is mostly concerned with getting rid of the rest of her clothes as quickly as possible.

Nate brushes a kiss to her stomach, his hands sliding down her thighs; Elena lets out a frustrated, wordless whine and rakes her fingers through his hair. He chuckles, and she can feel him smirking against her skin. “Want something?” he murmurs.

“God, you're a fucking tease,” she grinds out, and this time she lets her nails bite into his scalp and shoulder instead of the sheets. Nate pushes up against her hands, his breath hissing between his teeth, and now _that's_ an interesting reaction to file away for later. Assuming, of course, she doesn't kill him in the next thirty seconds because he's still toying with her, fingers and lips stopping just shy of what she needs. He nips lightly at her inner thigh, and Elena groans. “Nate, _please_.”

“Well,” he says, “since you asked so nicely,” and then he drags his tongue over her and she sees stars, arches against him and gasps something incoherent. She feels him moan more than hears it, and he curls one hand around her hip, his fingers pressing into her skin. Elena twists her hands in the sheets, her breath coming in hitched gasps as she rocks against him. She can't keep track of what he's doing, something incredible with his tongue, and she's vaguely aware of the half-voiced pleas of more, don't stop, please don't fucking stop that spill from her lips.

Nate's happy to oblige, his mouth hot against her and his fingers digging into her hip so hard she's pretty sure she'll have bruises later. He stops just long enough to hook her leg over his shoulder, and Elena groans his name when he slides his tongue into her. It's right on the edge between too much and not enough, and it takes a lot of effort for Elena to grab Nate's shoulder and push him back, instead of tangling her fingers in his hair and holding him down until she comes. Some women might get multiple orgasms, but she's never had that pleasure-- she's always needed a good fifteen minutes of recovery time, and that isn't at all in the plans today.

Nate looks confused as he moves back up over her. Elena just pulls him in for a kiss; she's grown to like the taste of herself on a man's mouth, and it's no different with him. Nate moans, his hands gripping her shoulders, and he's panting for breath when they part. His eyes are glassy and half-lidded, the confusion somewhat muted by lust. Elena nibbles at his lower lip, then pulls him down against her. “I want you in me,” she murmurs into his ear, because it's easier than explaining and also true. Nate's answering groan and full-body shudder are their own reward, and Elena rakes her nails down between his shoulder blades. She'll tell him another time-- because there most certainly will be other times, he's entirely too good to let this be a one-time thing-- but right now she really just wants him to fuck her.

He rolls off her and sheds his jeans and boxers with remarkable speed. Elena leans over him, her hand trailing down his chest as she kisses him. Nate breaks away with a curse when her fingers brush against his cock. Elena smirks against his shoulder as she strokes him, slow and tight, while he gasps and writhes under her.

“God, Elena, you're killing me here,” he mutters and pushes her back with shaking hands.

“That's a little hyperbolic,” she replies, and Nate shoots her an incredulous look before rolling over and grabbing his wallet off the nightstand. He halfway sits up to deal with the condom, and Elena entertains herself by trailing her mouth across his neck and shoulders, tracing her tongue over his scars and grinning against his skin when he shudders. Nate twists around and tackles her back into the mattress, and she laughs, raking her hands through his hair.

He presses kisses to her lips, her throat, her collarbone, his hands sliding down her sides, leaving her skin tingling in the wake of his touch. Elena wraps one leg around him and presses her body against his in a wordless demand. His breath is ragged and hot against her neck as he guides himself into her, and Elena bites her tongue to muffle a groan. It'll be good, god will it be good, she knows that, but it's been five months for her and right now it's kind of uncomfortable.

He must notice her tensing up, because he stops and turns his head towards her. “Okay?” he asks, lips brushing against her ear.

Elena swallows hard and nods. “Just-- just take it easy for a minute,” she murmurs.

He presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to her jaw in acknowledgment and moves against her, slow and careful. She shifts her hips as her body relaxes, adjusts to the feeling of him, the discomfort giving way to bursts of pleasure as they move together. She adjusts position slightly, hooking her leg behind his knee, and when he presses into her again something just clicks. “Oh, god, yes, just like that,” she breathes, her head falling back as she grinds up against him.

Nate chokes out something that sounds like it might be her name; she tugs at his hair until he raises his head enough for her to capture his mouth in a hard, messy kiss. He's still holding back a little, she's pretty sure, and that's fine, that's good, really, _he's_ good, god. There's tension and aching need coiling in her, and Elena slips a hand down her stomach to give herself just the little bit more that will push her over the edge. Nate grabs her wrist in one hand and pulls it away, pinning her arm to the bed. She wants to be annoyed, but Nate holding her down is unexpectedly really fucking hot, and he's sliding his other hand between them, his fingers rubbing tight circles over her clit. She bites her lip, trying to ride it out for as long as she can, but then the tension snaps and she comes hard, her back arching up against him and her nails digging into his shoulder. It doesn't take long for him to follow her over the edge, his groans muffled against her skin as he shudders.

They stay like that for a little while, tangled together and gasping, then Nate kisses her shoulder and pulls away, rolling over onto his back.  “God,” he breathes, panting for breath and blinking at the ceiling.

Elena waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Elena's fine,” she says, still a little breathless herself.

It takes a couple seconds for it to click-- she chalks that up to reduced blood flow to his brain--but when it does, Nate bursts into giggles. He's still laughing when he rolls onto his side and kisses her. She grins at him and runs a hand through his hair when they part. With a sigh, Nate slides out of bed and heads to the bathroom to clean up. Elena lets her eyes fall shut, drifting pleasantly in the afterglow. She definitely needs to make sure this happens again. Often. 

The mattress shakes when Nate flops back down beside her. He paws at her hip until she opens her eyes and rolls over to face him; he tugs her closer, wrapping his arms around her and settling her head on his shoulder. Elena blinks in mild surprise. Nate's a cuddler. That is... unexpected and really sweet. “This okay?” he murmurs, idly tracing his hand up and down her arm.

“Mm-hm.” She halfway sits up and tugs the sheet up over them both, then nestles in against his side again. Nate slides a hand up to the back of her head, gently working the tie loose from the mussed knot her hair has turned into. It's pretty relaxing, and Elena closes her eyes again.

Several moments pass in near-silence, both of them still catching their breath, before Nate speaks again. “What's hyperbolic mean?”

She lifts her head off his shoulder and blinks down at him. “Seriously?” He shrugs, looking up at her expectantly, and she huffs out a laugh. “It means exaggerating or overstating something,” she says as she lies back down. “I don't think you were actually in danger of dying.”

“Hmph. Says you.”

Elena rolls her eyes. “Well, if it's life-threatening, maybe we shouldn't--”

“Shh.” Nate puts his fingers to her lips to cut her off. Elena just smiles and kisses his fingertips; she feels him laugh, and he brushes her hair off her face. “You planning to stay?” he asks after a few minutes. Anyone else and Elena might have thought it was a veiled request to go away, but given that Nate's got both arms around her and his face buried in her hair, it's probably more just curiosity.

“Mm-hm.” Elena nods. “Don't think I could leave if I wanted to. My legs don't work anymore.” Nate says something that might be 'okay' or might be 'good.' Elena decides not to worry about it for the moment. “What time is it?” she asks.

“Dunno.” Nate turns his head to peer at the clock on the nightstand. “Tenish?”

“'Kay.” Elena closes her eyes. “Wake me up when it's time for dinner.”

Nate chuckles and presses a kiss to her hair. “You got it.”


	2. Secret Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not like either of them are known for their good ideas, anyway.

The job hasn’t gone completely south. More like… gone sideways. It’s still salvageable. At least, that’s what Nate tells himself as he peers out the narrow gap left by the panel of the secret door. There’re two mercenaries out in the room, digging through piles of debris and grumbling to themselves. He shakes his head. This was supposed to be an easy job, transporting a golden idol from England to India. Someone else had done the theft and then hidden the relic, along with Nate’s cut of the payment, somewhere in this abandoned manor house.

Unfortunately, the collector who originally owned the relic was a bit quicker on the uptake than most. Thus the mercenaries.

“Nate.” Elena’s voice is a bare whisper as she tugs at his sleeve. “C’mon.”

He turns away from the hidden door and follows her down the narrow passage. “Please tell me this goes somewhere useful,” he murmurs.

“I'd hate to lie to you,” she replies with a rueful smile. The passage ends in a glorified closet; there’s a dusty chest of drawers against one wall and a small wooden trunk against the other. And that’s it. Out of habit, Nate checks the drawers, hoping against hope that the original thief hid the goods in here. No such luck, although he does find a tarnished silver bracelet that might be worth something once he cleans it off. Or that Elena might like, he thinks, and tucks it into his pocket before she sees.

“Well,” he says. “Now what?”

Elena’s already sitting on the trunk and rummaging through her backpack. “I’m gonna call the police,” she says as she fishes out a cheap cell phone.

Nate’s rather proud of the fact that he manages to keep his reaction to a strangled hiss. “You’re what!?”

Elena glances up at him. “They’re trespassing,” she says with a nod in the general direction of the rest of the house. “An anonymous concerned citizen is going to place a call about strange lights and noises in the abandoned house, the police will come, the mercs will clear out, and we’ll have plenty of time to search for your stolen property.”

“And what if the cops find the stash?”

“Then your thief isn’t nearly good enough to be working with you,” Elena replies with a smirk. That’s flattering, but not necessarily helpful. Nate plants his hands on his hips and eyes her expectantly. Elena sighs. “They’re not gonna search the house if they think they’re just dealing with trespassers,” she says. “They’ll want to clear everyone out and get the place locked down again. We just have to wait them out.”

It’s not a bad plan. It’s not a _great_ plan, but given their options, it’s probably the best they’re gonna get. Elena dials the phone and clears her throat, dropping into a passable London accent when she starts speaking to the operator. Nate has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing at her complaints about “thieves disrespecting our landmarks.”

“There,” Elena says after she hangs up the phone. “They promised to check it out ‘right away,’ so I’d say they’ll be here in ten minutes or so. Give ‘em time to clear the place, and then we can go treasure hunting.” She pulls a knife out of her bag and starts prying the phone case apart.

Nate blinks. “Why are you carrying a burner phone?”

“I’m carrying four,” she tells him. “I’m supposed to be using them for my sources in the East End gangs, but I think this is a worthy cause.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m gonna go make sure the door’s sealed up,” he says. Elena nods and continues to break down the phone, stabbing seemingly random pieces with the tip of the knife. It’s probably paranoia—the cheap pre-paid phones tend not to have GPS devices—but they’re both firm believers in better safe than sorry.

The door’s secure, and what Nate can see of the room beyond is empty and dark. He can still hear footsteps and voices elsewhere in the house, though. It probably won’t turn into a shootout when the police arrive—the average mercenary might not have any problems shooting a thief, but killing a cop generally falls well outside what they’re paid to do.

Elena’s leaning against the far wall when Nate gets back to the small room. She’s smirking at him, her arms folded, and he’s pretty sure she’s undone a couple more buttons on her shirt. “So,” Elena drawls, and oh, he _knows_ that tone of voice, “seems like we’ve got some time to kill.”

It’s a bad idea. It’s a really, really bad idea, and he knows it. He’s pretty sure Elena knows it too. But, hell, bad ideas are something like three-quarters of their livelihood. Nate crosses the room in two strides; Elena drops her arms just as he reaches her, and he kisses her hard, one hand planted on the wall as he presses her back against it. She groans against his mouth, her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, and he can feel her shiver when he slips his tongue past her lips.

Elena slides her hands under his shirt, untucking it as she runs her fingers across his skin, and it's his turn to shudder. “Oh, this is a bad idea,” she murmurs when he ducks his head to trail kisses along her throat.

“Terrible,” he agrees. “Very, very bad. It's the-- oh, _god_ \-- the best bad idea you've had today.” He traces his tongue over the shell of her ear; Elena curses under her breath and presses her leg between his. Nate's breath stutters, and he bites his tongue to keep himself quiet. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth. 

“That is the plan,” Elena replies, smirking and breathless and entirely too smug. Nate growls and crushes their mouths together, pinning her to the wall with his body, and runs his hands up her sides, his fingertips barely skimming against her breasts before he stops. Elena whines in the back of her throat when they finally come up for air. “You are such a damn _tease_ , you bastard.”

Nate just smirks and turns his attention to undoing the rest of the buttons on her shirt. It gets thrown to the side quickly enough, and Nate slides his hands under the thin tank top she's still wearing, teasing her through the fabric of her bra. Elena kisses him again, all tongue and teeth and heat, and Nate almost doesn't notice her hands dropping to his belt.

He definitely notices when she slides one hand down his pants though. Nate groans and jerks forward as her fingertips brush against him. Elena chuckles breathlessly. “Quiet, Nate,” she murmurs, rising up on her tiptoes for a moment to nip at his ear.

Nate chokes out something that's halfway between a curse and her name. She just laughs at him again, and he'd very much like to pay her back in kind but it's sort of hard to keep standing, much less do anything else, when she's touching him like this. He braces his hands on the wall and blindly trails his mouth across Elena's throat, gasping for breath and grinding his hips against her.

He gets a brief moment of clarity when she withdraws her hand, turning her head away to quietly spit in her palm, and Nate fumbles at her belt with shaking hands. He manages to get the zipper on her jeans down--and he doesn't miss the way Elena's breath hitches at even that indirect contact-- but then her hand is back, slick heat around his cock, and Nate has to bite his tongue to keep quiet.

Faintly, through the walls and over the sounds of their heavy breathing, he's pretty sure he hears sirens. For some reason, it almost makes him giggle. He kisses Elena instead and slides his hand down her stomach, past the waistband of her pants, his fingers curving along her body. She's already slick, rocking against his hand, and he barely pauses before slipping one finger into her.

“Oh, god,” Elena groans against his mouth and tightens her fingers around him. They're both gasping, choking back moans because if they get caught the best-case scenario is getting kicked out of the country, and the looming risk just makes it that much better. Elena says he's an adrenaline junkie and yeah, she's probably right, but she loves this just as much as he does, going by the way she's digging her nails into his shoulder and grinding against his hand. Nate shifts a little, presses a second finger into her, drags his thumb over her clit. Elena drops her head against his shoulder, her breath hitching as they move. It's a little awkward, to be honest, their arms knocking together, and Nate's starting to worry about his legs giving out, but disentangling from her to change positions is somewhat beyond him, not when he's this close.

He presses a rough kiss to her temple, then moves his lips down to her ear. “C’mon, ‘lena,” he murmurs, which is all he can really manage right now. 

She lets her head fall back against the wall and somehow manages to smirk at him. “You first.”

Nate leans forward, trapping their arms between their bodies, and captures her mouth in an open, biting kiss. Elena gasps and arches against him as he twists his fingers, grinds his palm against her. She retaliates by stroking him faster; Nate breaks off the kiss with a curse and braces his free arm against the wall to hold himself up.

He's trying to hold back, but Elena knows all the best ways to make him go to pieces and she's exploiting at least a few of them right now. He has just enough presence of mind to crush his mouth to hers as he comes, muffling his moans against her lips. Elena takes her hand off his shoulder-- and Nate's pretty sure she might be leaving some bruises behind-- and grabs his wrist, pressing his hand hard against her as she rocks against him until she comes with a choked gasp.

They stay like that, swaying and panting for breath, for about five seconds before Nate's legs finally give out. He turns his collapse into a half-roll and slides down the wall beside Elena. She sinks to the floor, her head tipped back against the wall while she blinks at the ceiling. “I ever tell you,” he says when he can speak again, “that I like the way you think?”

Elena chuckles breathlessly. “Once or twice.” She glances down at herself, then shrugs and peels off her tank top, using it to wipe off her hand and stomach before tossing it at him. Nate cleans himself up as best he can, then drops it on the floor and reaches for her. She snags her shirt before throwing her leg over his and straddling his thighs. Nate wraps a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her down for a slow, searching kiss. “Mm,” Elena purrs when they finally part. “I have _good_ ideas.”

“Yes, you do.”

She grins and pulls on her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. She's about halfway done when Nate leans forward and plants his forehead against her chest. He can hear her heartbeat, still faster than normal, and he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. Elena just laughs again and runs her hands through his hair. “Did you hear sirens?”

“Maybe,” he says, without moving or opening his eyes. “Was sort of distracted.”

“Really,” she replies dryly. “How long do you think we should wait before checking things out?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes,” Nate says. He presses a kiss to her skin and leans back. “Not sure my legs will be working before then, anyway.”

Elena grins and goes back to buttoning her shirt. “Good plan.”


	3. Fluff Without Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://rhiannon42.tumblr.com/post/32266208394/kamishiros-sometimes-the-force-with-which-i): " _sometimes the force with which i want certain fictional characters to kiss gently and kiss fiercely and hesitate and touch foreheads and cuddle and awkwardly make out and needily make out and come to terms with their feelings and daydream about each other and say i love you SURPRISES EVEN ME_ "

_kiss gently_

“Told you you weren't supposed to be out of bed,” Nate says, his smile unable to cover the worry in his eyes as he helps Elena limp across the room.

She makes a non-committal noise in response, her head bowed and her breathing labored. Nate cringes and eases her down onto the bed. “Thanks,” she murmurs. She shifts position, then winces, one hand coming up to curl protectively around her left side.

Nate clenches his jaw against the surge of fear at the reminder of how close he came to losing her. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair off her face, the contact a reassurance that she's okay, she's here, she's alive. Elena smiles faintly at him. “You're sweet.”

“Don't tell anyone,” he says, moving to the end of the bed so he can tug off her boots. “It'll ruin my reputation.”

Elena chuckles, then winces, her fingers shifting over the bandages and wounds on her ribs. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” He sets her boots on the floor and pulls the blanket up over her. Elena grabs at it and arranges it around herself, settling into the bed, while Nate perches on the edge of the mattress. She's still too pale, the shadows under her eyes and the slowly healing scrapes on her forehead standing out in stark relief against her skin.

“I'm fine,” Elena says, absently patting at his hand.

He gives her a crooked smile. “I know.”

She glances away, her hand still resting on his, then looks back up at him. “You'll stay?” she asks.

Nate's heart sort of flips at that, and he tells himself that she just means right now, this afternoon, this moment. “Yeah.”

Elena smiles and slides her hand up his arm, tugging lightly at his elbow, and he lets her pull him forward and down, his free hand braced on the headboard above her as their lips meet. It's quick and gentle, both of them too exhausted and injured for anything more. Nate only moves back a few inches when they part, and Elena blinks up at him, draws in a breath like she's about to speak, but then doesn't. There's a voice in the back of his head that's whispering _just tell her, dammit_! It sounds suspiciously like Chloe.

He doesn't speak, either. Just smiles and brushes another light kiss to her lips, then sits back up and takes her hand. He'll tell her that he loves her, eventually. Just... just not right now.

 

_kiss fiercely_

The door to her apartment clicks shut behind Sully, and Elena slowly flattens her hands against her legs. She can't look at Nate again, not yet. It's taking a lot of effort not to just burst into tears-- anger and relief and regret and fear and a thousand other emotions are all strangling her, and most of them have to do with him. He's a wreck, to put it mildly, a walking mess of burns and gashes and bruises. All reminders of how very, very close she came to losing him forever.

Elena takes a few deep breaths, blinks back the tears, tells herself she can do this. She looks up at Nate, and okay, no, maybe she can't. He's slumped back against the couch, gaze locked on the floor, and she wants to scream at him and hug him and cry into his shoulder and kiss him senseless. Dammit. This would be so much easier if she didn't love him. Or if he hadn't left her in the first place.

She looks away again and gets to her feet. “You should get some rest,” she says, turning towards the kitchen. “Just for a couple hours, until Sully comes back.”

Of course, he can't just agree and pass out on her couch. “Elena,” he says, and she hears him stand, follow her across the room. She stops with her back to him, her arms wrapped around herself instead of around him. “I--” He stops himself. Probably about to apologize again. He's sorry, he's always sorry, but that doesn't mean a damn thing if he doesn't _do_ anything about it.

He puts his hand on her shoulder, and she turns her head towards him. “Nate...”

“Sorry,” he says and yanks his hand back. Elena closes her eyes for a moment, then turns to face him. He looks lost, his hand hovering a few inches above his chest, eyes wide and haunted as he searches her face. Elena feels something snap, and before she can think about it enough to stop herself she's grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him close, pushing herself up on her toes to capture his mouth in a hard, open kiss.

He makes a startled noise and grabs her shoulders, more out of surprise than anything. Then he's kissing her back, desperate and needy, his fingers digging into her arms. They're both gasping when they finally part, and Elena swallows hard, staring up at him. There's too many things she wants to say-- _I love you, I can't lose you, you left me again you son of a bitch, get out, come to bed_ \-- but none of it comes out. Instead, she lets go of his shirt, steps back, looks away. “Go shower,” she says. “Then you really should sleep.”

For a second, Nate's frozen, then his hands drop from her shoulders and she can see the blank mask falling into place. “Right,” he says, and she hates herself a little bit. He steps past her, heading for the bathroom, and Elena squeezes her eyes shut, turns towards him.

“Nate.” He stops and looks back over his shoulder at her. She hesitates again-- too much to say, all of it caught in her throat-- and sighs. “I'm-- I'm glad you're okay.”

She can't read the look that passes over his face. “Me too,” he says and turns away. Elena's shoulders slump as the bathroom door closes. It's all wrong, and she's scared that they're really past saving.

 

_hesitate and touch foreheads_

Elena can see her breath in the early-morning air. Tenzin had started a fire, but it's still cold in the house, especially now that she's lost Nate's shared warmth. Tenzin's taking him further into the mountains to find Schaeffer's expedition, and apparently, they need an early start.

“Here,” Nate says, holding out her jacket. Elena smiles her thanks and pulls it on. Still not as warm as he was, but it's not like she can just stay in bed with him all day, the way they used to when he'd come visit--

She shakes her head to clear it and zips up the coat. Nate sits down on the bed beside her. “I still think this is crazy,” he says as he tugs on his shoes.

Elena doesn't, but then, she's spent the past few days talking to Schaeffer while Nate was unconscious, and she's seen more of Lazarevic's methods. These stories might be true, which means it's too much of a risk to let Lazarevic go unchallenged. “If it is, we'll go home,” she promises.

He sighs. “Yeah.” Nate rolls his shoulders back, stretching, then grimaces and presses a hand to his side. “Dammit.”

Elena instinctively reaches over and covers his hand with hers, her gaze flicking up to his face in concern. Their eyes meet, and for easily the third or fourth time since they ran into each other back in the city, Nate looks like he wants to kiss her. Elena looks away first. It's all too complicated, and this is not the time or the place to get into the mess that is their relationship. Instead, she slides her other hand up to his shoulder, pulling him towards her so she can lean her forehead against his.

Nate sighs and closes his eyes, his fingers twining around her hand where it's still pressed to his side. After a few moments, Elena draws back, trying to ignore the disappointed look on Nate's face as she gets to her feet. “C'mon,” she says. “Long trip ahead of you.”

“Right.” Nate follows her out onto the porch and squints into the sunlight. “I hope I live to regret this.”

Elena grabs his shoulder again, pulling him down the few inches necessary so she can press a kiss to his cheek. The startled look on his face almost makes her giggle. “Just come back in one piece,” she says, then gently pushes him toward the stairs.

Nate heaves a sigh and trudges towards Tenzin. “Don't suppose you speak any English, do ya, pal?” he asks, trotting along after the other man, and Elena shakes her head. Hopefully they'll be back soon.

 

_cuddle_

Elena had thought she was being quiet, but Nate's awake when she slips back into the bedroom. “What're you doin'  up?” he slurs, still half-asleep and more than half-buried in a nest of blankets and pillows. She smiles at him-- it's pretty rare to see him like this, with his guard down completely, relaxed and comfortable and safe. Rare, but getting less so.

“It's morning,” she replies, reaching up to pull her hair out of her face.

Nate raises his head a bit and peers at the window. “It's raining,” he says, as if that's some kind of argument.

“It's also after nine.” Elena steps to the desk and flips her laptop open. “I have work to do.”

Nate shifts around on the bed. “I have a counter offer,” he declares. Elena looks at him, eyebrow raised, and he holds out his arms to her. And, well, it's a rainy Saturday morning, and it's not like her research can't wait. She glances at her laptop, then sighs and shuts it. “That was easy,” Nate says as she climbs back into bed.

“You made a compelling argument.” Elena smiles as he arranges the blankets around them. He's warm through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and she wraps her arm around his waist, her head against his chest. Nate makes a contented noise in the back of his throat and settles his arms around her.

Elena had been surprised to find out that he was a cuddler, back when they first slept together, but now that she knows him better, it makes sense. He's a very tactile person, with an almost literal need for physical contact. Elena's hard-pressed to think of a time when they've been in a room together where he hasn't been touching her, even just a hand on her arm or on her back every few minutes. It's comforting, now, a near-constant reassurance that he's here with her.

She lets her eyes drift close, listening to him breathe, idly tapping her fingers against his back in time with his heartbeat. Nate's rubbing his thumb back and forth across the patch of exposed skin between her shirt and pajama pants, and she sighs contentedly. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

 

_awkwardly make out_

Nate watches as Sully disappears down the dock. Getting the treasure off the boat and onto the truck is a good first step. Hopefully Sully's plan isn't to try selling it all before they go back to the hotel. He has never wanted a shower so badly in his life.

“How long do you think he'll be gone?” Elena asks from where she's leaning against the back of the boat.

Nate turns towards her and shrugs. “Depends on who's up this early.” It's barely an hour past sunrise; most of the criminal class is probably sound asleep, which means that finding someone willing to sell Sully a truck for cash, no questions asked might be a little tricky.

“Mm.” Elena nods, glancing around the dock behind him. The sun's behind her, turning her hair to gold, and Nate lets his gaze drift lower, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone, the small strip of exposed skin above her shorts. He catches himself idly entertaining thoughts of his mouth on her skin, the sounds she'd make, the way she'd move under him... Nate clears his throat and looks away. Time and place, and this is neither.

Elena sighs, and he sees her move out of the corner of his eye. He glances back at her and swallows hard. She's leaning back on her elbows, her head tilted back, exposing her throat and another inch of skin where her shirts ride up. And okay, maybe this isn't the time or place for the majority of what's going through his head, but he can compromise.

Nate saunters over-- or tries to, the swaying of the boat throws his balance off a bit-- and Elena looks over at him as he approaches. “So, I guess we've got some time to kill,” he says with a slow smile.

She gives him a once-over and a crooked smile in response, clearly reading his intent. “Aren't we supposed to be keeping an eye on that?” she asks, nodding at the pile of treasure behind him.

He shrugs and leans forward, planting his hands on the railing on either side of her. “I think we'd notice if someone else came aboard,” he replies.

“Better hope so,” Elena says, smirking up at him. “I'm gonna be pretty pissed if you make me lose my share of the treasure on top of everything else--”

Nate closes the distance  between them, covering her mouth with his to cut off any listing of all the ways he's supposedly wronged her since they met. Elena returns the kiss eagerly, her hands coming up to settle on his waist. She tastes like salt and the angle's just a little off, thanks to the difference in height between them, but it's still a pretty damn good kiss. For about ten seconds, anyway, until a wave hits the boat and knocks them against each other. There's a really unpleasant collision, and Nate jerks back, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Sorry,” he says, cringing.

Elena pulls her hand back from her mouth, as though checking for blood, and _that's_ really not a great start to things. Then she laughs, shaking her head, and pushes off the railing. “C'mere,” she says, and hooks her finger through one of the belt loops on his jeans and pulls him after her towards the treasure. Nate doesn't have much choice but to follow. She lets go of him and hops up to sit on one of the crates, then grabs his shoulder, tugging him forward between her knees. “Let's try that again,” she says, eyes sparkling.

He grins. She definitely had the right idea-- the angle's much better this time, and he can keep his balance with one hand, leaving the other free to slide up her arm and settle on the back of her neck. Elena loops her arms around his neck, and it's all very nice until the next wave hits. “Oh, for god's sake,” Nate mutters, rubbing a hand against his knee where it cracked against the crate. “I'm usually a lot better at this.”

“Me too,” Elena says, sounding frustrated. “I blame the ocean.”

“Works for me.” Nate glances towards the dock, then brightens. “There's a bench in front of the gangway,” he says, and Elena's sliding off the crate before he's finished speaking.

“Anyone tries to sneak onto the boat, you can just trip 'em,” she says and grabs his wrist, tugging him along after her.

“Good plan.”

 

_needily make out_

Nate grunts when his back hits the wall, a breath of air that he's really going to need escaping before Elena's on him, her body pressed against him and her mouth on his in a hard, biting kiss. He groans when she tangles her fingers in his hair, gripping just hard enough to hurt but, hell, he wouldn't have made it this far if he didn't like a little pain.

Sometimes, he really hates his job, and hers, and the fact that they can be in the same damn city but still not see each other for almost a week. It's nobody's fault, just a series of bad schedules and last-minute changes. As it is, they have about fifteen minutes before Elena has to leave again to get to a press conference on the other side of town. And that's not nearly enough time for everything he wants to do to her.

Elena breaks off the kiss with a gasp when he slides his palm over her breast. “Oh, god, Nate, I have to leave in, like, ten minutes,” she breathes.

“Skip it,” he growls and nips at her ear. She shudders. “Tell 'em you're sick or something.”

“Can't,” she mutters. “You _know_ I can't just...”

He does know. And intellectually, he appreciates that; he wouldn't want her to give up her work for him, just like she wouldn't want him to give up what he does for her. But he's not exactly thinking rationally right now. “Guess I'll just have to give you incentive to come back fast,” he says. He slides his hands down to the back of her thighs, then in one smooth motion, picks her up and spins around so her back's to the wall.

Elena wraps her legs around his waist and groans into his mouth when he kisses her. She'll never admit it, not directly, but he knows she loves it when he does this, uses his not-inconsiderable strength on her. Not to hurt, _never_ to hurt her, but god, the sounds she makes sometimes when he picks her up or pins her to the bed...

Nate ducks his head to press kisses to her throat, careful not to linger in any one spot long enough to leave marks. He hears a faint thud as her head falls back against the wall, and she twists her fingers into his hair again. He could probably get her off in the time they have left, take care of himself once she's gone, but he keeps his hands above her waist. It'll be so, so much better if they wait. The museum vault will still be there tomorrow. He's definitely going to be here when she gets back.

 

_come to terms with their feelings_

So it turns out that Nathan Drake is, among other things, kind of a romantic.

They've been dating, sort of, for about six months, and this is Nate's seventh visit to L.A. They grabbed an early dinner, and with no other plans for the night, Nate had suggested going to the beach. So now Elena's enjoying a long walk on the beach at sunset, hand-in-hand with her not-boyfriend. Bizarre relationship status aside, it's really sweet, especially since Nate seems so damn happy about the whole situation.

He's rambling on about his latest adventure, a job in Italy that involved a pair of feuding collectors who kept hiring him and Sully to steal the same set of relics back and forth. Elena's only half-listening, most of her attention focused on the wet sand under her feet and the feeling of Nate's hand in hers. It's weird, how much that gesture means to her. It feels like commitment. And she knows it shouldn't, she knows she shouldn't think that way, not about Nate, but sometimes she can't help it.

“You ever been to Turin?” Nate asks, breaking into her thoughts.

Elena shakes her head. “Rome and Venice, for the show,” she says. “But that's it in Italy.”

“We should go sometime,” Nate says. “You'd like it.”

Which of course doesn't help matters. And she knows she should shrug it off, not let him see how much it matters, but instead she grins and nods. “Sounds great,” she says. “Just keep me out of the heists, huh?”

Nate laughs. “No promises,” he says. “You're the one who followed me into trouble last time.”

“Only because you blew up my boat and then _ditched_ me.”

“I didn't blow up the boat! And leaving was Sully's idea!”

She scoffs. “So you keep saying.” Nate pouts and gives her his best puppy eyes. Elena shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, looking away. “Not gonna work on me. Still blaming you for that one.”

Nate heaves a melodramatic sigh and looks down the beach. After about three seconds, he perks up, his momentarily feigned injury forgotten. “Race you,” he says, pointing at a large stone outcropping about twenty meters away.

Elena glances at him, then at the rock, then shrugs. “Okay,” she says and takes off running. She laughs at Nate's yelped “Hey!” behind her. He's easily nine inches taller than her, and if she wants any chance of actually winning, she's gotta tilt the odds in her favor.

Of course, Nate is crazy tall and crazy fast, and he catches up with her after only a few seconds. Instead of going past her, though, he grabs her around the waist and picks her up. They're both laughing as he spins her around, and she grabs his arms for balance. “Cheater,” he says merrily when he sets her down.

“Am not,” she protests. “You never said what the rules were.” He's still got his arms around her waist, and she leans her head back against his chest to look up at him. Nate smiles and leans down to kiss her forehead. She doesn't see him like this often enough, relaxed and silly and happy. There's always something kind of guarded about him, and she loves to see him let that down, just a little bit. She loves-- well, really, she loves him, so--

Oh. _Oh._

Elena blinks and drops her head forward quickly so that Nate won't see the look on her face. He doesn't ask what's wrong, so she figures she's gotten away with it, and dammit, how could she be such an idiot. Of course she loves him and of course it's the stupidest thing she could have done. Falling in love with someone like Nate is a terrible idea, and she's just going to get her heart broken. She knows it.

Nate steps around in front of her and pulls her close for a proper kiss. Elena loops her arms around his neck and, for just a little while, gives in and lets herself forget.

 

_daydream about each other_

Elena would love this.

Nate sighs and rests his forearms on the crumbling stone wall of the temple. The place is built into a mountain, and from his place on the roof, Nate's got a view of the whole valley. The lake in particular looks gorgeous-- it's a clear, sunny day, and the lake's crystal-clear. Elena would be beside him, probably with her camera in hand, her eyes sparkling and that beautiful smile on her face...

“Little help?” Sully calls from behind him.

Nate shakes his head to clear it and jogs back to the hole in the floor. “Sorry,” he says, leaning down and offering Sully his hand. He pulls the other man up to the roof with only a minimum of straining and cursing.

Sully brushes off his shirt. “The hell did you disappear to?” he asks. “I wasn't that far behind you.”

Nate shrugs. “I just wanted to, y'know, check the place out,” he says. “Make sure it was clear.”

“Uh-huh.” Sully raises an eyebrow at him and heads towards the edge of the roof. “You should call her when we get back to the States.”

Nate blinks. “What?”

“Don't play dumb. You know who I'm talking about.”

“How would you even-- why-- wha--”

Sully grins and pulls a fresh cigar out of his pocket. “You had a look,” he says. “It's your Elena look.”

“I don't have a--”

“Yes, you do.” Nate crosses his arms and does _not_ pout, because he's thirty-one years old, he certainly does not pout. He's just frowning deeply. Sully glances back at him and rolls his eyes. “Quit pouting and help me look around,” he calls. “I don't wanna leave here empty-handed.”

Nate follows Sully across the roof with a sigh. He glances out at the lake again and smiles. Maybe he could bring Elena here sometime. She'd really love it.

 

_say i love you_

He's been to every continent on the planet, visited over ninety countries, and stayed in hundreds of cities. Yet somehow, this is Nate's first trip to Hawaii. It was sort of deliberate-- he tries to avoid the touristy places, just as a general principle. But Sully had been stationed there during his tour in the Navy, and when he found out that neither Nate nor Elena had been... well. Evangelizing seemed like too strong a word, but only just. So, partially because they wanted to do something special for their second wedding anniversary (the first one they're spending together) and partially to get Sully to just shut up already, they're in Hawaii.

It's... actually just as nice as Sully made it sound. Probably in large part because they blew a lot of money on their accommodations. The small, remote beach house and the private lagoon hadn't been cheap, but it's worth it. He hasn't been this relaxed in months.

Nate sighs and closes his eyes as he floats on the surface of the water. The sun and water are both wonderfully warm, the air smells like flowers and seawater, and everything is perfectly calm... until a pair of arms loop around Nate's waist and drag him underwater.

There's some undignified flailing and splashing before he manages to right himself and surface. Elena's a few arm lengths away, laughing unrepentantly. Nate wipes water off his face and shakes his head. “You're gonna pay for that.”

Elena's response is to giggle at him and then neatly dive to the side. Nate's not a bad swimmer-- it wasn't just luck that got him through that nightmare in the shipyard-- but he's better at endurance. Elena, on the other hand, is freakishly fast. She's halfway across the pool in what seems like mere seconds, and Nate can only watch as she hoists herself up onto a large, flat rock. “Fish outta water,” he calls.

Elena grins at him and pushes her hair out of her face. “Let's see you get your revenge now,” she says. She pulls her feet up out of the water as he wades over, thus thwarting Plan A. Plan B is to go back to floating and try to lure her back out, but Nate's pretty sure she'd see through that one. So, Plan C it is.

Nate clambers up on the rock beside her and leans back on his elbows, tilting his head back to stare up at the impossibly blue sky. “This was a good idea,” he says.

“Yeah.” Elena scoots closer and leans her head on his shoulder. Nate momentarily puts Plan C on hold to shamelessly stare-- she's his wife, he's allowed. Days in the sun have left her skin a few shades darker than normal, and it makes the scars on her left side stand out a little more. She gets self-conscious about them, sometimes, but she hasn't tried to cover them up while they've been here. That's good for a couple reasons-- one, it means she's been wearing bikinis most of the time, which Nate _really_ enjoys, and two, it means they're finally getting comfortable with each other again.

He sits up, pulling Elena along with him, then leans down to kiss her. Elena hums against his mouth and moves to straddle his legs, then loops her arms around his neck. Plan C is the very best plan, Nate decides, because it involves making out with a warm, wet, nearly naked Elena. For a second, he considers abandoning the plan entirely and just letting things take their course, but, well, he's got his pride to consider.

Nate draws back, breathless, and smiles at Elena. “I love you.”

She grins back, eyes sparkling, and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. “Love you, too.”

“Good,” Nate says. He plants his feet against the side of the rock and locks his arms around Elena's waist. “So you'll eventually forgive me for this.” He throws himself forward and into the water, thoroughly dunking them both. Nate lets go of her and twists to the side so she can surface. He comes up a few feet away and doesn't even bother hiding his laughter as she sputters.

“You conniving bastard,” she finally says, but she's laughing, too.

He shrugs. “Hey, you married me,” he says.

Elena wades over and slides her arms around his waist. “Yes, I did.”


	4. Patience is a Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct follow-up to the "needily make out" section in Chapter Three.

Elena smirks at the “Do Not Disturb” sign already hanging on the door of the hotel room. No kidding. She’d turned her phone off as soon as she left the press conference. After Nate’s little... demonstration... earlier, there is no way in hell she’s paying attention to anyone outside their room until tomorrow morning. If not later.  
  
The door doesn’t unlock on the first try; she takes a deep breath and slides the keycard in again, exhaling sharply when it clicks to green. She shoulders the door open and walks in, trusting the heavy door to shut without her input. She drops her bag on the floor and steps out of her shoes; Nate’s already out of his chair, the book he’d been reading shoved aside. Neither of them says a word as they close the last few steps to each other. The kiss is hard and messy and everything she’s been missing this past week. Elena wraps one arm around Nate, her hand gripping his shirt, and tangles her other hand in his hair.  
  
They’re both gasping when they finally part, and Nate releases his hold on her just long enough to yank his shirt off. “Please tell me you’re not overly attached to this,” he says, voice rough, and runs his fingers down the front of her shirt.  
  
Elena glances down, considers for a moment, then shrugs. “Not especially,” she says. “Why--”  
  
Nate grabs the front of her shirt in both hands and pulls, easily ripping it open and sending a few buttons flying, and okay, wow, that is way hotter than it has any right to be. Elena shudders, her mouth suddenly dry, and slips out of the ruined shirt. Nate crushes their mouths together, and from there it’s a frustrated, fumbling struggle to get out of the rest of their clothes as fast as they can.  
  
“You were just _waiting_ here, why the hell are you still dressed,” Elena mutters as she tugs Nate’s boxers over his hips.  
  
“Seemed like it would’ve been cheating,” Nate replies.  
  
Elena groans in annoyance and drags him to the bed. They end up facing each other, more or less, and she hooks one leg around his as she kisses him. Nate's hands drift across her back, her arms, her breasts; she doesn't really have the patience for foreplay, though, and slides her hand down between his legs.

Nate gasps and jerks towards her. “Oh, god,” he mutters, breathing ragged, grabbing almost desperately at her wrist. “I'm not gonna last if you keep that up--”

“I don't care.” Elena grabs his shoulder and rolls them over so he's on top of her, then wraps her legs around his waist to really drive the point home. “We get this out of our systems, we can take all the time in the world on round two, but god, Nate, right now I _really_ need you to fuck me.”

He exhales sharply, almost a laugh. “Well, when you put it like that,” he says and presses into her without preamble. Elena makes a sound that's half-groan, half-sob, her nails digging into his shoulder nearly hard enough to draw blood as she arches up against him.

Neither of them lasts very long, truth be told. Elena blinks up at the ceiling and pants for breath, her heart pounding and her legs still wrapped around Nate. “God, I needed that,” she says.

Nate makes a vague noise of agreement from where he's got his face buried in her neck. After a few moments, he presses a kiss to her collarbone and pulls away. Elena chokes back a whimper as he slides out of her. “Think that's a new record for us,” Nate says, sounding a bit sheepish, and flops over on his back.

Elena automatically rolls onto her side and drapes an arm around his waist. “Well, if you start counting from when I walked in the door, then yes,” she says. “ _I'm_ starting the count at the foreplay three hours ago.”

“Oh.” Nate considers this. “That's much more impressive, then. Those were the longest three hours of my _life._ ”

She snorts. “Easy for you to say,” she says. “At least you were alone. I had to be around people and pretend like I wasn't fantasizing about all the things I'd do to you when I got back here.”

Nate laughs. “Well, don't hold out on me,” he says. “What sort of things are we talking here?”

Elena checks her watch, then realizes she's still wearing her watch for some reason and shakes her head. “Give me, like, five minutes,” she says, undoing the clasp. She tosses the watch in the general direction of the dresser; it misses and hits the floor. Whatever. She'll worry about it in the morning. “Then I'll be _very_ happy to share.”


	5. Phone Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate's in Guatemala. Elena's in Germany. It's kind of surprising, really, that they haven't done this before.

Elena heaves a sigh and plants her hands on the cold counter of the hotel bathroom, meeting her reflection's eyes in the mirror. It's been a long, frustrating day of chasing down politicians and getting non-answers on the new EU deportation policies. She's tense and cranky, and while she knows she should review her notes, she can't stomach the thought of looking at them again. Not now. It can wait until the morning.

She shakes her head and leaves the bathroom, flicking off the light as she goes. With a sigh, Elena flings herself down on the cold, too-empty bed and stares up at the ceiling, wishing that Nate were here. He'd be able to make her laugh, or at least listen to her rant about her day, then give her a backrub, his hands working out the knots in her muscles, his fingers brushing her hair aside so he could press his lips to her shoulder...

Elena scowls. Nate's not here, though, he's off crawling around some long-forgotten tomb in Guatemala. Not that she begrudges him the treasure hunting expedition, not exactly, but she hasn't seen him in five days. Nothing really to be done about it now, though. She won't be going home until the weekend, at minimum, and she has no idea when Nate will get back. She'll just have to deal with it herself.

She's got one hand on her stomach, not even under her shirt yet, when her phone rings. Elena glares at it, and for a second, she considers switching it off and hurling it across the room. Then the responsible adult part of her brain takes over and she picks it up. When she sees the name on the screen, though, she grins. The responsible adult thing pays off sometimes. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Nate says. “You're not working, are you?”

Almost, depending on how she feels like defining 'working,' but Elena decides to keep that innuendo to herself. “Nah,” she says. “I'm back in my room for the night.” For a moment, she considers telling him about her day, but truth be told, she'd just as soon not think about it. “How's Guatemala?” she asks instead. “Find any treasure?”

“Not yet. Gotta wait for the sun to go down before we try sneaking in.” Nate sighs. “Hopefully it'll cool off by then.”

“Is it really warm there?”

“It's miserable,” Nate replies. “It's, like, ninety degrees and a hundred percent humidity. Clothes are unbearable, I'm laying here in just my boxers right now, and even that might not last.”

Elena bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. She can picture it perfectly, Nate sprawled out on a bed, golden sunlight spilling into the room, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin just waiting to be licked off... “Sounds awful,” she manages, and her voice doesn't sound all _that_ strangled.

“Eh. I'll live,” Nate says. “How's Germany?”

She glances at the hotel window. “Not bad,” she says. “Jacket weather. It's raining right now.”

“Mm. Good weather to stay in bed all day.”

It occurs to her that he might be doing this on purpose. “Yeah,” she agrees, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Too bad you're on the other side of the planet.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to get you new jewelry?” he teases.

“You could always just rob jewelry stores instead of ancient ruins.”

“Psh. Boring.”

Elena laughs. “Heaven forbid your crime be dull.”

“Well, yeah.” She can practically hear him grinning. “You up to anything interesting over there? Besides exposing corruption and enjoying the weather.”

She shrugs and smirks at nothing. “Mm, just laying in bed.” She hesitates for a split second before continuing. “Thinking about you.”

“Oh, really.” The change in tone is instant, Nate's voice going low and a little rough. Elena swallows hard and shifts restlessly. “Anything in particular?”

She lets out a breathy, almost nervous laugh. This is new territory-- neither of them is exactly into dirty talk in bed, and despite the frequent travel, they've never tried phone sex before. But apparently Nate's feeling the distance and the days just as much as she is. “What we'd be doing if you were here,” she says, suddenly glad that she _is_ alone so there are no witnesses to the blush creeping across her face.

“I might have a few ideas in that direction,” Nate says.

“Well, don't hold out on me, Mr. Drake.” Elena clicks the phone over to speaker, then sets it on the mattress beside her pillow. Her fingers trace light circles over her stomach in imitation of the way he touches her, sometimes, when he feels like taking it slow.

He laughs too, and somehow that's comforting. They can be lonely and awkward and horny together, and if this doesn't work, well, at least Elena will have the mental image of Nate in his too-warm hotel room to inspire her. “Well, ah, I'd kiss your neck,” Nate says, and yeah, he's definitely kinda nervous, “slide my hands under your shirt...”

“What makes you think I'm wearing a shirt?” Elena asks, teasing.

“ _Are_ you?”

Oh, what the hell. Elena sits up enough to slip off her tank top and tosses it aside. “Not anymore.”

Nate groans through clenched teeth. “Oh, god, I wish I could see you right now,” he says. “You're gorgeous, Elena, I don't tell you that enough but you are, you're beautiful...”

She grins and turns her head towards the pillow, half-hiding the way she always does when he tells her that. “If you were here, I think, uh, I think I'd have you out of those boxers by now,” she says. She lets one hand drift up to her breast, fingers tracing and teasing over her skin.

He chuckles. “Oh, they're long gone.”

The mental image that follows that statement is enough to make Elena moan. She slips off her shorts and underwear, then spreads her legs as she reaches down to touch herself, light and teasing, the way he would if he were here. On the other end of the line, Nate groans, and Elena thinks that she might be able to get off just listening to him.

Nate, however, doesn't seem to be satisfied with just that. “C'mon, 'lena, talk to me,” he pleads, voice raspy. “Just-- just tell me--” He cuts himself off with a choked gasp.

Elena closes her eyes, her fingers slick, her own touch still too light. “I miss you,” she says. “Wish you were here. Wish it was your--your hands on me.” She gives in and presses two fingers inside herself, unable to stop the high, breathy moan that escapes. “So—so much better when it's you.”

“I-- _god_ \-- I know the feeling.” Nate groans, his breathing ragged. “I-I'm keeping you in bed for _days_ when we get home.”

She chokes out something resembling a laugh. “Holdin' you to that,” she says. She pushes her fingers in deeper, twists them slightly and shudders at the sensation. Her ability for coherent speech is rapidly fading, and she really hopes that Nate isn't expecting her to hold up her side of the conversation.

Fortunately, Nate doesn't really seem interested in talking much anymore either, other than muttered curses scattered among the familiar gasps and groans. She loves to be the one to draw that out of him, push him past the smirking and clever lines until his self-control's in shreds and he's shaking apart in her arms. And God, she's close, her fingers working in and over her sensitive flesh, and for all that she's still frustrated because what she really wants is six thousand miles away.

“Christ, Elena,” Nate chokes out, “I need to, need to hear you, please, just...” He trails off into a strangled curse, and Elena slides her other hand down to press her fingers against her clit. And normally if she's in a hotel she tries to keep it down, have some consideration for whoever might be on the other side of the wall, but tonight she really only cares about who's on the other end of the line. Her breath catches as everything in her goes taut, then she curls in around her hands as she comes, groaning something that might be his name.

Nate curses again, gasping, and Elena shudders with her own aftershock as she listens to him getting off. With a groan, she eases her fingers free and wipes her hands on the bedspread, panting for breath and her heart pounding. A few moments pass in relative silence while they both try to pull their brains back together. “So,” Nate says, his voice still a bit ragged, “that went well.”

Elena laughs and rolls onto her side to face the phone. “Yeah,” she says. Now that she's not otherwise occupied, she's aware of how chilly the room is. She slides under the blankets, but they're cold too, not warm with shared body heat. She sighs and pulls her knees up towards her chest. “I miss you.”

He sighs. “I miss you, too.” There's a few rustling noises on his end of the call. “When are you gonna be back home?”

“I'm not sure,” Elena says. “Not before Sunday, for certain.”

“Hmm.” Nate's quiet for a few seconds. “If I can wrap things up here soon enough, I might fly out there instead of back home.”

She grins at the phone. “Call me before you do, okay?” she asks. “I don't want you to spend fifteen hours on a plane and then only be on the ground for, like, three before we're back in the air again.”

“Eh. Worth it.”

Elena giggles. “You're sweet.”

“Don't tell anyone. It'll totally ruin my reputation.”

“I mean it, though, call me,” she says. “I'd much rather have you well-rested and waiting for me at home instead of both of us staggering back all jet-lagged to hell.”

“Good point,” Nate says. “All right, I'll call before I leave this hemisphere.”

“Good.”

They fall silent again, and eventually Nate sighs. “I guess I should let you go,” he says reluctantly. “You probably need to sleep.”

“Yeah.” Long day tomorrow, chasing around more politicians and bureaucrats and having doors slammed in her face. “I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah. I'll call once we're back from the ruins,” Nate says. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“I will.” Elena reaches out towards the phone, her fingers hovering over the disconnect key. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With a sigh, she ends the call, then reaches over and shuts off the bedside light. The bed's still kind of cold and far too empty, but she'll see him soon. Not soon enough, but... soon. That'll have to do.


	6. Getting Your Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena would like Nate's attention, and she'd like it _now_ , please.

This is just unacceptable.

Elena stands near the foot of the bed, her arms folded as she stares at Nate. He’s stretched out on the bed, looking obnoxiously attractive, and he’s had his nose buried in a book for the last few hours. Which was fine, earlier, but now Elena would like his attention and his hands on her instead of whatever ancient tome he’s picked up this week.

It must be pretty damn interesting, seeing as he didn’t look up when she shut off her laptop and started getting undressed. She’s down to the white button-up she stole from his side of the closet; she’s a little behind on laundry, and it’s not like he ever wears it. Elena glances down at herself and smirks. Nate’s tunnel vision when reading is nothing new-- he tends to shut out the rest of the world, unless the rest of the world does something significant enough to get his attention.

Elena undoes the first few buttons on the shirt and wanders over to Nate’s side of the bed. He flips another page and doesn’t look up. “Hi,” she says in a deceptively neutral voice.

“Hi,” Nate replies distractedly. He glances up from the book for a split second, then does a double-take, eyes wide as he looks her up and down. Elena bites her tongue to keep from laughing. “Um. _Hi._ ”

She smirks and undoes another button. “Good book?”

“I, uh, I-I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Nate says, his gaze locked on her hands as she moves them down to the next button.

Well, she’s definitely got his attention now. “Really? You seemed awfully interested in reading it a few seconds ago.”

Nate swallows hard. “I don’t think I even know what reading _is_ anymore.”

Elena chuckles and undoes the last couple buttons. The shirt’s large enough on her that even unbuttoned, it doesn’t reveal much. Nate tosses the book to the side without taking his eyes off her. It hits the wall with a rather loud thud. Elena glances over at it, then arches an eyebrow at Nate. “Didn’t you pay, like, two hundred dollars for that?”

“No idea, don’t care, come _here_ please,” Nate says and reaches out for her. She laughs again and climbs up on the bed, straddling his legs with her knees pressed against his hips. Nate settles his hands on her waist as she runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, and she can't help a smile as she leans down to capture his mouth with hers. Nate lets out a muffled whimper when she slides her tongue past his lips, and he looks dazed when she finally draws back.

Elena just smirks, a little breathless herself, and braces one hand on the headboard above Nate. The other hand slides up into his hair to tug his head back so she can get at his throat. He goes willingly, his eyes falling shut as he tilts his head back. Elena trails her mouth across his neck, stopping to suck at his pulse and drawing a low groan out of him. His hips shift beneath her, and Elena smiles against his skin, presses a kiss to the bruise she's left behind before she grinds down against him.

“Oh, god, 'lena.” Nate bucks up against her, his hands spasming on her waist, and Elena rises up on her knees to deny him further contact. He whines and tries to pull her back down, but she doesn't move. She's running the show tonight, and he's just going to have to lie back and take it.

She's pretty sure he's not going to be terribly disappointed.

Elena kisses him again, taking full advantage of the fact that she's got the height advantage for once to maintain control, ignoring Nate's borderline desperation in favor of taking things slow, her tongue tracing over his and her fingers tangled in his hair. He's gasping when they finally part. “You are such a tease,” he says and makes another halfhearted attempt to tug her down again.

Elena laughs and leans back. “Well, I learned from the best,” she says, trailing her fingers down his chest until they reach the hem of his shirt. “Turnabout's fair play, sweetheart.”

He smirks and sits up enough to let her pull his shirt off, then slumps back against the headboard. “So I brought it on myself, is what you're saying.”

“Mm-hm.” Elena lets her hands wander, fingertips tracing over the lines of his muscles and scars.

Nate shivers at the touch. “Well, you'll have to tell me exactly what I did to deserve this,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded.

Elena just smiles mysteriously and moves in to kiss him again, still slow and thorough and drugging. It's only when she's too breathless to continue that she draws back and ducks her head to kiss her way along his jaw and throat. He's got a scar on his right collarbone, probably from breaking it, though he claims he doesn't remember where he got it. Elena pauses long enough to trace her tongue over the curved scar, then shifts down over his body, careful to avoid touching the erection pressing against his jeans.

It's not like he was _wrong_ when he said she was a tease.

Nate groans through clenched teeth as Elena trails biting kisses down his chest. He's holding back, she can tell-- normally he's quite vocal in bed (or on the couch, or on the floor, or in the shower), but tonight he's making an effort to keep quiet. Probably trying to hold onto some semblance of self-control, and she's not going to stand for that. Elena brushes her lips over the bullet scar above his left hip and glances up at him. Nate's got his eyes closed, his head tipped back as he pants for breath. She smirks and props herself up on one elbow, then very casually and without warning slides her thumb up the line of his cock.

“Oh, god!” Nate moans, arching his back, his hands twisting in the sheets. Elena chuckles. Now that's more like it. She unbuttons and unzips his jeans, then hooks her fingers into the waistband to tug them and his boxers off. Nate kicks them away and slithers a bit lower on the bed, his shoulders and head against the pillows, his eyes glassy with lust as he watches her.

Elena nuzzles at his hip, ignoring the far more obvious option for the moment. She traces her fingers across his abs and stomach; Nate whines in the back of his throat and paws at her shoulder, clearly trying to direct her attention elsewhere. Elena reaches up and moves his hand back to the mattress, then runs her tongue along one of his scars.

Nate makes a wordless, frustrated noise. “You are _evil_ ,” he mutters, squirming impatiently beneath her.

Elena raises her head and arches an eyebrow at him. “That's not actually very encouraging, you know.”

“Dammit, Elena, please,” he begs, his body tense, eyes falling shut again as he drops his head back, “please, I-I need you, _please_...”

Elena swallows hard, shifting her hips against the mattress. God, but she loves this, wrecking his self-control and his shields, knowing he can't think straight, and it's all because of her. She trails her fingers down his stomach, then wraps them around the base of his cock and takes him into her mouth. Nate makes a strangled, gasping noise, his hand briefly skating through her hair before falling to her shoulder. She curls her free hand around his hip as she starts to move, more a reminder to hold still than anything-- he's far stronger than her, and if she's holding him down, it's only because he's letting her.

Somehow, that makes it better.

Nate's given up all pretext of restraint, groaning and cursing between gasps for breath. There's a decent chance he's going to end up tearing the shirt, the way he's gripping the fabric. At least he'd be ruining one of his shirts for once. Elena takes it slow, still toying with him a bit, occasionally pulling back to trace her tongue over him. It's taking what self-control she's got left to keep her hands on Nate instead of sliding one down between her legs. She's aching for something more than grinding against the bed, but she makes herself wait, wait for him, for the way he'll feel inside her. Elena groans at the thought, and Nate chokes out her name in response, his hand twisting on her shoulder.

When he starts rocking his hips up against her despite the warning press of her fingers, Elena pulls away, panting for breath and trying not to cough. She knows that normally he tries to be considerate of the fact that she's got his cock in her mouth, but when he's this close, etiquette tends to go out the window. God knows she's done it to him a few times, holding him down past the point of being entirely comfortable. She clears her throat as quietly as possible and moves back up over him.

Nate's still gasping, his hands clutching at her shoulders as he blinks at her. “You stopped,” he says. “Why, why would you stop.”

Elena chuckles at that. Always nice to be complimented on her work. She grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls his head back to a better angle, then kisses him hard, pressing her tongue into his mouth. Nate groans, matching her fervor, his hand hot on the back of her neck. Elena draws back slightly, still close enough to feel his breath on her lips, and gives him her best wicked smirk. “Because,” she purrs, “I'm not done with you yet.”

Nate makes a sound that's halfway between a whimper and a laugh. Elena kisses him again, quick this time, then sits up to start pulling off the shirt. Nate straightens up a bit as well and reaches out to help, tugging at her sleeves with faintly trembling hands, but his efforts just get the fabric tangled around her elbows. “Stop, stop,” she mutters, batting him away, “you're not helping.”

He snorts and drapes his arms loosely around her waist, his hands settling on her ass as she pulls her arms free of the sleeves and throws the shirt to the side. Nate leans forward to mouth along her collarbone, and Elena reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. Nate doesn't move out of the way, and she rolls her eyes and yanks at his hair again. He's being difficult on purpose, she's pretty sure, going by the half-swallowed groan and the way his eyelids flutter in pleasure.

Her bra joins the shirt on the floor, and Elena slides a hand back into Nate's hair, guiding his mouth down to her breasts. She feels him groan more than hears it as he licks and sucks at her skin. He traces one hand feather-light up her spine, settling between her shoulder blades and pressing her forward to give him better access. When he lightly scrapes his teeth across a nipple, Elena lets out a sigh, her head tipping back and her eyes falling shut. She leaves her fingers lightly twisted in his hair in case she feels like redirecting his attention. But after all this time together, he knows what she likes, when to switch between gentler kisses and rougher bites, when to find an untouched stretch of skin to trace his tongue over.

Elena doesn't really pay attention to much of anything besides Nate's mouth on her, until she feels his hands slide to her waist. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and glances up at her, his eyes a silent plea, and she doesn't have it in her to deny either of them. She nods, her mouth suddenly dry, and wrestles free of her last piece of clothing. Nate pulls her down for a kiss as she positions herself over him, and his breath stutters when she reaches down to guide him in.

After deliberately holding back for so long, the feeling of his cock sliding into her almost undoes her right then. “Oh, Jesus, Nate,” she breathes, slumping forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He makes a choked noise in response, his fingers tracing along her jaw, and she lets him tilt her head back to capture her mouth with his. Elena loops her arms around his neck and rolls her hips forward, moaning into his mouth at the feeling. Nate rocks up against her, and it doesn't take them long to find their rhythm, moving together and gasping for breath between kisses.

It's a slow build, and she's content to keep it that way, to drag it out as long as possible. Nate lets one hand drift between them, his fingertips brushing light against her, and Elena swears under her breath, digs her fingers into his back. He leans forward to kiss her neck, then ghosts his lips up to her ear, nipping lightly before speaking. “Want you to come for me,” he murmurs and presses his fingers down with intent.

She shudders, but shakes her head. “You first,” she says and clenches tight around him.

Nate's entire body jolts at that, his hips snapping up hard against her. “Oh, _fuck_ , that's cheating,” he hisses.

Elena manages a faint laugh. “Says the thief,” she replies, then picks up the pace, captures his mouth in a messy kiss and runs her hands down his chest. He's trying to hold back, she can tell, but it's a losing battle. He's wound tight, his movements increasingly jerky and desperate, and his half of the rhythm rapidly slides out of control as he thrusts into her. He doesn't quite scream her name when he comes, but it's close enough, and Elena grabs his wrist to keep his fingers pressed against her. Nate shifts his hand slightly, rubs his thumb over her clit, and in moments she's following him over the edge.

She all but collapses against him, her face buried in his neck and her arms around his back. She can hear his heart racing where her chest is pressed against his, and she shifts slightly to tuck her feet under his knees. It's not quite wrapped around him, but it'll do for now.

Nate turns his head and presses light kisses to her hair and neck, and Elena smiles against his skin. “You were ignoring me in favor of your book,” she says.

The kisses stop. “Huh?”

Elena sits up with a low, satisfied groan, and gives him a crooked smile. “You asked what you did to deserve this,” she says. “There's your answer.”

Nate blinks at her. “I'm not sure if that means I should be spending more time reading, or less,” he finally says.

“Me neither,” she replies with a giggle. She leans in and kisses him, then draws back, disentangling herself from him, and flops over onto her back on the mattress. She expects Nate to follow suit for cuddling, but instead, he leans over the side of the bed and grabs his book. Elena stares at him. “Nate, I swear to god, if you start reading again right now--”

“No, no, just picking it up off the floor,” Nate says, hurriedly setting the book on the nightstand. “I did pay a few hundred bucks for it.”

Elena laughs and grabs his arm, pulling him back towards her. “C'mere, you.”

“Yes ma'am.”


	7. The OT3 is Nate/Elena/Jeeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by beltsquid's tags on [this post](http://rhiannon42.tumblr.com/post/43648223322/uncharted-parallels-jeep-s-the-jeep-in). The next obvious step was car sex in the back of a Jeep.

Elena spun the wheel to the right and ducked as a hail of bullets went slicing through the air around her. The battered, stolen Jeep swung around a bend in the path. Behind her, Nate opened fire on their pursuers again, the familiar clatter of an automatic rifle drowning out the sounds of the car and the jungle around them. “Don't you have a damn grenade launcher?” Elena shouted. Seemed like that would get rid of their new friends much faster.

“Savin' it for a special occasion!” Nate called back. She could just hear him grinning. Of course he was having the time of his life back there. Something _whooshed_ past the Jeep, and a fiery explosion took out several trees off to her left. Elena cringed and ducked again as shards of wood went flying past. “Uh-oh,” Nate said. “Think you can go any faster?”

Elena rolled her eyes and glanced at the speedometer. She'd been holding at 65 kph, mostly out of the perfectly reasonable concern that going any faster ran the risk of losing control and driving into a tree. At this point, though, the odds of avoiding a crash were probably better than the odds of avoiding another rocket. “Hang on,” she said and floored it.

Nate yelped, and she felt him hit the back of her seat as he presumably lost his balance and fell. He righted himself soon enough, though, and the shooting started up again. Elena could hear another noise, though, even over the sound of gunfire. Rushing water, somewhere nearby. Another rocket detonated off in the jungle, and Elena winced. The road was a straight shot ahead of them, and about forty meters down, the thick vegetation and trees just stopped. Elena squinted down the path. “Nate!” she called and pointed at the wooden bridge ahead of them. “Special occasion!”

“Oh, crap,” Nate said. They came out of the jungle and shot onto the bridge. Out of the corner of her eye, Elena could see the source of the sound: a massive waterfall spilling down to the river far, far below them. The bridge shuddered and creaked underneath the Jeep; probably far more weight than it had been designed for. “C'mon, just a little more,” Elena muttered. They were close to the end of the bridge when she heard the grenade launcher fire twice behind her. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see the center of the bridge explode, then she turned back and slammed on the gas again. The Jeep just barely had all four wheels on solid ground when the bridge gave out.

Nate let out a triumphant whoop. “Catch up with us now, ya bastards!”

Elena eased off the gas, breathing hard like she'd just run a mile. They'd only gone a little ways before she spotted a clearing off to the side of the path, and she pulled over, easing the Jeep to a stop. She put it in park and killed the engine, then leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Behind her, Nate was doing his semi-hysterical, 'holy-shit-I-can't-believe-we're-alive' laugh, shocked and exhausted and relieved.

After a few moments, Elena felt a tap on her shoulder. Whatever Nate wanted, it could wait. When she didn’t move, the tapping turned into insistent shaking. “Elena,” he half-whined.

“What?”

“C’mere.” There was a thumping sound as, presumably, Nate patted the seat beside him.

Elena rolled her eyes, then sat up and climbed over the seat. “What do you--” Nate grabbed her shoulder and hauled her down to him, capturing her mouth in a hard, messy kiss. Elena threw her hands out, gripping the back of the seat for balance, and pulled away after a few seconds. “Uh,” she said, blinking, as Nate reached forward and grabbed her hips, tugging her forward until she was kneeling on the seat and straddling his legs. “You sure this is a good idea?”

He pulled his gun out of his holster and set it on the seat next to them. “No,” he replied as he did the same with her gun, then looked up at her hopefully. He was a mess, covered in sweat and dirt, and Elena knew she didn’t look any better. But he was already a little breathless, his hands hot against her sides, and she couldn’t entirely blame the lingering adrenaline for the surge of raw _want_ that shot through her.

“Well, so long as we’re all on the same page,” she said and leaned down to kiss him. Nate groaned against her mouth and slid his hands up under her shirt, his nails raking lightly up her ribs.

This was really not the time or the place to take things slow. Elena fumbled with her belt as she and Nate traded hard, biting kisses. She ducked her head to nip at his throat, her tongue flicking out over his pulse. But between the sweat and dirt and god-knew what else, he tasted kind of gross, so she went back to his mouth. Nate broke off the kiss and made a similar discovery a few moments later, when he leaned down to trail his lips along her collar bone. He mostly silenced the disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “We need showers,” he commented.

“No kidding,” Elena agreed and kissed him again.

She got her belt and fly undone, and she rose up on her knees as Nate tugged her shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh. He ran his hand along the curve of her ass, and Elena laughed against his mouth when he gave her a playful squeeze. She drew back and glanced over his head, scanning the jungle behind them. Not totally irresponsible, she was making sure no one was sneaking up on them, and--

Nate slid his hand between her legs, fingers brushing against her, and her ability for coherent thought abruptly vanished. Elena groaned and curled forward, her head on his shoulder, one hand twisted in his shirt. “God, Nate,” she ground out. He swallowed hard, and she could hear how ragged his breathing had gotten. He tugged at her hair and pulled her head back to capture her mouth with his. She finally broke the kiss with a gasp, lack of air and desire leaving her a little dizzy, then Nate gave her a crooked smile and pressed two fingers into her.

Elena choked out something that resembled his name and rocked her hips forward, taking his fingers just a little deeper. Nate tried to match her movements, gently thrusting his fingers in and out of her, but that wasn't it, wasn't what she needed. She blindly reached down and grabbed his wrist to stop him, then let her eyes fall shut as she moved, riding his hand and gasping for breath. He did what she wanted and kept his hand still, but his fingers kept moving, curling slightly inside her or spreading apart, sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her eyes flickered open again, and she glanced up at him from under her lashes. Nate was panting for breath, his gaze locked on her and his pupils blown out with lust. That he could get to this point just from watching her... Elena leaned forward and kissed him hard, her hands braced on the seat behind him to steady herself. Nate slid his other hand off her hip and rubbed his fingers against her clit, hard and almost a little rough, the pressure spiking every time she moved forward. She didn't last long after that, coming faster than she'd have liked, honestly, but it was still good, still enough to leave her shaking and gasping.

Nate eased his fingers free of her, and Elena choked back a moan at the feeling. She leaned back enough to pull her shorts back up, then paused, frowning, as she tried to work out the logistics of getting Nate off. Their current position definitely wouldn't work. After a few seconds, she moved to sit beside him, tucking her legs under herself. Nate blinked at her, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and lust, and he made a whining noise when she moved away.

“Shh.” Elena leaned over and kissed him, then reached down to unfasten his belt. This position wasn't _great_ , but it was probably the best she was gonna get out of the back of a Jeep. Nate raised his hips so she could tug his jeans and boxers down, and Elena quietly spat in her palm before reaching out to wrap her fingers around his cock. Nate groaned and let his head fall back against the seat, breathless and eyes shut tight, as she stroked him. She could tell he was close already, the head of his cock slick when she circled her thumb around it. Nate bucked up into her hand at that and blindly reached for her, drawing her close for an open, almost desperate kiss.

He kept his hand on her shoulder when they parted, holding her close, his eyes still shut tight as he rocked his hips up to meet her hand. Elena kissed him again and tightened her fingers around him; Nate's hand spasmed on her shoulder, and he choked out half a curse as he came. He sagged back against the seat, gasping for breath, and Elena brushed her lips to his before drawing away. She wiped her hand clean on the side of the seat-- it wasn't like it was _their_ car, after all-- then finished pulling her clothes back together.

By the time she turned back to him, Nate had refastened his jeans and was blinking up at the sky. He glanced over at her, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tried to pull her towards him. Elena wrinkled her nose and leaned away. “No, no cuddling,” she said. On the one hand, the fact that he was trying to cuddle with her after they'd fucked in the backseat of a Jeep in the middle of the jungle was kind of adorable. On the other... “You're all sweaty and gross.”

“So're you,” he said, pouting, but stopped trying to drag her closer. Elena rolled her eyes and leaned up to give him a quick kiss. He smiled at her when she pulled back, which she took to mean that all was forgiven.

She slumped against the seat and stretched her legs out as much as she could, then glanced around the jungle. Still free of mercenaries trying to kill them. “So,” she said after a few minutes, rolling her head to the side to look up at Nate, “where's this crypt of yours?”

He sighed. “With our luck? On the other side of the river.”

Elena laughed. “Guess we better start trying to find a way across, then.”


	8. A Much Better Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anything's to blame, it's probably the fancy clothes.

As an international reporter, Elena can dodge a fair number of the social events the network throws. Being in another country or being horribly jet-lagged because she was just in another country are good excuses. But this one, the big one in New York, she really can't miss. Especially since she was told about it four months ago, and her producers made it clear that attendance was more mandatory than requested.

That doesn't mean she has to like it.

At least she's not suffering alone. The invite extended to a plus-one, and Elena dragged Nate along despite his whined protests. He's her husband, so he has to come with her to the corporate parties.

Elena's on her second glass of wine, making small talk with a couple of the network's morning anchors and plotting her escape from the conversation. It's tougher than it sounds, given that she's barely gotten a word in edgewise. Her role seems to mostly be nodding and making vague noises of agreement. Elena takes a healthy swig of wine and glances at the glass. More than half left. Damn. So much for the 'I need a refill' excuse.

“There you are,” Nate says suddenly from behind her. “I was looking for you.” He rests his hand on the small of her back and flashes a charming smile at the anchors. “Sorry, just need to borrow Elena for a minute.”

He doesn't give them a chance to argue, just steers Elena away and towards the bar. “Thank you,” Elena breathes fervently.

Nate chuckles. “You looked like you needed a rescue.”

“You have no idea.” She glances up at him and smirks. “You don't get to add this to the tally, though.”

“Hm. Maybe we should start one for non-life-threatening rescues, then,” Nate says.

“Relatively sure that's already in the hundreds on both sides,” Elena replies.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Good point.” They reach the bar, and Nate flags down the bartender and orders another scotch. “How much longer are we here for?” he asks once the bartender's headed off to get his drink.

Elena glances at her watch. “Another hour, minimum,” she says. She's pretty sure that if she bails before the three-hour mark, she's going to get snide, passive-aggressive lectures from her managers about the importance of company solidarity and making appropriate connections. And she'd rather avoid that if at all possible.

Nate takes his drink and slides the tip over to the bartender. “Great,” he mutters into his glass.

“Sorry.”

He shrugs. “At least we don't have far to go,” he comments, giving her an obvious once-over. Elena arches an eyebrow and returns the look. The party's nice enough to merit a suit for him and a dress for her, although Nate didn't bother with a tie and Elena's just wearing a cocktail dress. She did pick something sleeveless and form-fitting on purpose, though.

Elena sips her wine and scans the room, then brightens when she spots a cluster of familiar faces in one corner. “C'mon,” she says, straightening up. “Found where the war correspondents are hanging out.”

“Your people, thank God,” Nate mutters and follows her lead across the room.

The party gets somewhat less painful after that. Conversation's much easier when she doesn't have to endure shocked looks at a casual mention of shooting her way out of an interview, or when Nate doesn't have to censor what he does quite so much. A few of the other reporters remember Nate from past meetings, which helps. Elena's pretty sure most of them think he's a smuggler. She's also pretty sure that none of them really care all that much.

It's probably a combination of the alcohol and the comparatively relaxed atmosphere that puts Nate in a good mood. Well. Not just good. He lets his hands linger on her just a little too long, stares at her and doesn't bother to hide it, catches her eye and smirks with a look that says nothing less than 'I'm gonna make you scream for me.' It makes Elena very, very glad that they got a room in the hotel upstairs. They'd probably end up doing some inadvisable things in the back of a taxi otherwise.

She's chatting with a reporter who switched from foreign to domestic investigative reporting (“less shooting, more corporate corruption” is his assessment) when Nate sidles up to her, slides his arm around her waist, and lets his hand settle just a little lower than is exactly appropriate. Elena checks her watch again. She should probably put in another twenty or thirty minutes, but she's pretty sure that if she tries, one of them will end up dragging the other into a supply closet.

“It was great talking to you again, Mark,” she says with a smile and grabs Nate's hand. Nate mutters something that sounds like 'finally' under his breath as they head for the doors.

The elevator's crowded, and Elena can see Nate fidgeting every time it stops. It eventually reaches the ninth floor, and Nate takes the lead down the hall, digging the keycard out of his pocket. Elena follows him into their room with an amused smirk. “Someone's impatie--”

Nate crushes their mouths together, shoving her against the door, and Elena feels it slam shut under the combined weight of their bodies. She clutches at his arms when he presses his tongue past her lips, and she can't help the half-moan that escapes her. He pulls away abruptly, his eyes dark as they search her face. Then, on some unspoken cue, he moves to kiss her again. She meets him halfway, her hands sliding up to his shoulders in an effort to tug his jacket off.

It’s only when the sleeves are tangled around his elbows that Nate takes his hands off her and wrestles his arms free of the jacket. Elena takes advantage of his momentary distraction to step out of her heels and kick them against the wall. Nate looks confused by her sudden change in height, but he gets over it quickly enough, pinning her to the door with his body and ducking his head to suck at her pulse. She groans and lets her head fall back against the door, even as she fumbles with the buttons on his shirt.

Nate's hands are everywhere, sliding down her arms, up her sides, over her breasts. Elena tries to focus on getting rid of his clothes as quickly as possibly-- she's just got the dress, but he's got _layers_ between her and his skin. She manages to get his shirt unbuttoned and mostly untucked, and she drags her nails down his chest, running over muscles and scars that she knows by heart. Nate groans against her mouth, then slips one hand between her back and the door. He seems to be trying to figure out the zipper on her dress, as best Elena can tell. He's not having much luck with it.

She leaves him to it, trails open, biting kisses across his collarbone and chest while her hands drop to his belt. She's got years of practice at this, it shouldn't take more than a few seconds, but Nate's doing something really distracting with his tongue and teeth and the shell of her ear. His breath is hot and uneven against her skin, and she's almost dizzy with how badly she wants him. All that combined, and Elena considers it a minor miracle she's still standing, much less able to eventually figure out Nate's belt. She throws it aside, and it hits a wall with a loud thwack.

And then, well, she's got her hands right there. It's all too easy to curl one around his side, his skin burning hot under her palm, while her other slips down the front of his pants. He's already hard, and she drags her fingers up the length of his cock. Nate chokes out a curse, and his entire body jerks forward, pressing her into the door again. Elena smirks and repeats the motion, captures his mouth with hers and slides her tongue past his lips when he moans.

Nate breaks off the kiss with a ragged gasp. “Hell with it,” he half-growls and slides both hands down her back, over her ass and to the backs of her thighs. He's done this often enough that Elena knows to disentangle her hands and grab his shoulders right before he picks her up. She immediately wraps her legs around him, her dress riding up to her waist, and twists her fingers into his hair. Nate carries her to the nearest piece of furniture, which happens to be the desk about six steps into the room.

Some dim, distant part of Elena's mind is glad that she put her laptop back in its case earlier.

They separate slightly when he sets her down; Elena scoots back a couple inches so she's a little more comfortable, and that's just enough space for her to look up at him. He's panting for breath, his pupils blown out with lust as he rakes her with his gaze. She can feel her skin go hot just off that look. Nate's a man who fixates on things, treasure or books or mysteries, and when he's into something, it gets the full force of his attention. Having that attention focused on her is... it's overwhelming, almost, because there's no doubt that he _wants_ her, completely and totally.

She grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him back in, and the resulting kiss is hard and messy and wonderful. Nate pushes her dress up high enough that he can hook his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and steps back enough to pull them off. Then he stops, scowling down at himself, and kicks off his shoes with an irritated grunt.

Elena smirks. Horny and annoyed is an entertaining combination on Nate. She watches as he strips off his pants and boxers, makes a show of checking her watch as he does so. The look he gives her in return is more incredulous than anything. Two steps forward and he's got his mouth on hers again, grabs her knee to hike it up around his waist, then guides himself into her without preamble. Elena groans, her fingers pressing into his skin, and gets her other leg around him. Nate looks dazed as he leans his forehead against hers. Probably trying to recover some degree of self-control, but Elena doesn't have much interest in that. She brushes a gentle kiss to his jaw, then grinds her hips against him.

He doesn't need further encouragement. Elena rocks her hips forward to meet his thrusts, and he drops his head to her shoulder, his face pressed against the side of her neck. He keeps one arm around her back, holding her close, while his other hand is braced on the desk. That leaves her hands free to wander, and she slides them over his back, up his arms, into his hair so she can drag his mouth to hers.

They're both close to the edge, the space between them filled with sharp, uneven breaths and messy kisses. Elena whines in the back of her throat and digs her nails into his shoulders. “Nate, please—” He nods, slides his hand from her back to between her legs, working his fingers over her clit. She lets her head fall back and rolls her hips against him, her eyes shut tight and her breath coming in shaky gasps. When she comes, shuddering and arching her back, it's with his name on her lips.

Nate's hands settle on her waist, and he buries his face in her shoulder again as he drives himself into her. She drags her fingers through his hair and dips her head to brush her lips against his ear as she murmurs a string of half-voiced endearments and pleas and _oh god yes_. Nate pulls her tight against him when he comes, his teeth briefly biting into her shoulder, then he slumps forward with a groan and catches himself on the desk.

“If you end up on the floor,” Elena says, still out of breath, “I am not dragging you to bed.”

Nate laughs weakly and raises his head to give her a quick kiss, then draws back and stumbles a couple steps to the left to collapse gracelessly in the desk chair. For a few moments, they both just sit there, catching their breath. Nate reaches out and pats the desk. “Kinda impressed it stayed together,” he comments.

She huffs out a laugh. “For the amount we're paying for this room? The furniture damn well better hold up.”

Nate chuckles, then reaches down and starts idly tugging his socks off. Elena sighs and reaches behind herself to undo the zipper that had given Nate so much trouble earlier. She pulls her dress off over her head and tosses it to the floor. It's creased and rumpled and probably stained now, but that's what dry cleaners are for. Her bra joins the rest of her clothes moments later, and Elena slides off the desk. “C'mon,” she says, holding hand out to Nate.

He takes it and lets her pull him out of the chair and across the room to the bed. Elena flops down onto the soft comforter and nestles into the pillows with a contented sigh. Nate rustles around behind her, then his shirt settles over her head. She bats it away, and Nate laughs. “It looks better on you,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. Elena grins and rolls over to face him. “You're not gonna be in trouble, are you?” he asks as she drapes her arm around his waist. “We did skip out early...”

Elena shrugs. “Probably not,” she says. “And even if I do get lectured, it'll be worth it.” She stretches a bit and gives him a lazy, satisfied smile.

He smiles back and press a soft kiss to her mouth. “Do you have to be anywhere tomorrow?” he murmurs, tracing his fingers up and down her back. “'Cause if not, we could spend the day testing the construction on the rest of the furniture in here.”

“That include the bed?”

“Hmm. Eventually.”


	9. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written because I needed something short and sweet and giggly for my OTP.

When she comes back into the bedroom, Nate’s awake, tracking her progress across the room with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. “Did I wake you up?” Elena asks, half-whispering for some reason, as she slides back into bed.

He shakes his head. “Been awake for a while.”

Elena chuckles. “And just didn’t want to get out of bed?”

Nate smiles and wraps an arm around her waist. “Why would I want to do a thing like that?” he asks, pulling her towards him. Elena goes willingly; Nate’s warm, and he’s already got the oversized t-shirt she slept in hiked up past her waist. He dips his head to trail his mouth along her neck, and she tilts her head back in silent encouragement.

Neither of them is fully awake yet, and Elena feels like everything’s still a bit fuzzy at the edges. Her hands find their way under his shirt, and god, he’s so warm, practically radiating heat against her palms. They trade slow, lazy kisses, lips against skin or mouths, wherever they can reach. Nate keeps playing with her hair, twisting strands around his fingers, and Elena laughs. He grins at that, so obviously happy that she’s happy. Elena curls her hand around the back of his neck and pulls him close for a kiss.

Nate’s palms skim across her breasts, and she lets out a quiet gasp, arches her back. She can feel him smiling where he’s got his lips against her throat, and she drags her nails down his back, smiles herself when he shivers. She keeps going, her hands sliding past his hips, and Nate laughs when she runs them over his ass.

There's barely any space left between them, but Elena manages to get one hand into what space there is and palms him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Nate makes a low, satisfied noise in the back of his throat and rolls his hips towards her, pressing against her hand. His breath is warm and uneven on her skin as she rubs her hand over him, his hand is curled into her shirt where he’d pulled it aside so he could press kisses to her collarbone. She traces her tongue around the shell of his ear just to make him shiver again.

It works, and Elena smirks, nips at his ear before he raises his head to capture her mouth with his. Nate walks his fingers down her side, almost like he’s trying to be sneaky about it, and she breaks off the kiss with a laugh. He grins and immediately kisses her again, his hand brushing across her stomach before slipping between her legs.

This time, when she draws back from the kiss, it's with a quiet moan. Nate lets his forehead fall to her shoulder as he rubs his fingers against her, still unevenly rocking his hips against her hand. She fumbles past his clothes first, lightly running her fingers down his cock and drawing a groan out of him. He follows her lead quick enough, though, tugging her underwear down so that she can kick them away.

They're tangled together, pressed as close as possible, the space between them filled with gasps and warm, clumsy kisses. She breathes his name as his fingers move over and in her, her arm pressing into his as they rock against each other. It's a slow build towards release, and she's torn between wanting more and wanting to make it last.

Nate doesn't seem to have any such conflict; his breathing turns heavy and the steady movement of his hips turns fast and uneven. He kisses her, a little desperately, then buries his face in her shoulder. Elena slides her free hand up to the back of his head and tugs at his hair until she can see his face. He blinks at her with glassy eyes and gives her a dazed smile. Elena manages a smile of her own in return, just before she circles her thumb around the head of his cock. He moans, head falling back and eyes fluttering shut, and Elena can't help but grind against his hand as she watches him come.

He takes a couple deep breaths and blindly fumbles for her arm. She pulls her hand free of his boxers, lightly dragging her fingers up his cock and making him shudder as she does so. Nate's all loose-limbed as he shifts closer to her, and he kisses her again, tongue flicking into her mouth as he curls his fingers in her. Elena whimpers and rolls her hips against him, silently asking for more. She can feel him smiling when he draws back from the kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers as he rubs his thumb against her clit. She knows she won't last much longer, and she doesn't fight it, just presses as close to him as she can get before she comes undone.

Nate kisses her again as he eases his fingers out of her. Elena makes a faint noise of protest at the feeling, but doesn't try to stop him. Instead she just opens her eyes and stretches a bit, giving him a lazy, satisfied smile. “Mm. Good morning.”

“I'll say,” he agrees. She chuckles, and Nate ducks his head to press a brief, warm kiss to the side of her neck. Then he flops over halfway on top of her and sighs. “Back to sleep.”

Elena laughs and ruffles his hair. “I like the way you think.”


	10. Rainy Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the weather's terrible and someone might have beaten them to the treasure. Doesn't mean the trip's a waste.

Elena tugged at her shirt, humidity and sweat making the fabric cling to her skin, and followed Nate through yet another half-collapsed hallway. They’d been poking around the jungle ruins for a couple hours now; Nate had found some old journals that indicated the Spanish colonists who’d built this fort had left a fortune in gold behind. So far, they hadn’t found anything, and Elena was starting to doubt that they would. Nate was stubborn, though, and she knew they wouldn’t be leaving until he’d scoured every inch of the ruins.

“Hmm…” Nate stopped walking and pulled his journal out of his pocket, looking from his notes to the doorways around them.

Elena took advantage of the break to pull out her hair tie, grimacing as her hair fell on the back of her neck. She ran her hands through her hair, working out the knots that had formed, then set about twisting it back into her normal messy bun.

“Aw, not leaving it down?” Nate asked.

She rolled her eyes. “God, no,” she said. “It’s too hot for that. It’s too hot for _clothes_ , almost.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, when it’s officially too hot for clothes, let me know,” he said, then flipped his journal shut.

“You’re the one who wore a long-sleeved shirt,” Elena pointed out as he started towards the door on the left side of the hall.

Nate waved a dismissive hand at her, which meant that she was right but he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. Elena grinned and stepped over a fallen chunk of masonry, following him into the room. Then she stopped abruptly so she didn’t run into him and knock him into the gaping hole in the floor.

“Well,” Nate said after a few moments, “guess we don’t have to look for the secret passage.”

Elena snorted and carefully stepped around him so she could see the room properly. There was another chamber fifteen feet or so below the one they stood in, the floor littered with flowers and ferns and crumbled stones. “Think this is just normal decay, or did someone do this on purpose?”

Nate crouched down by the edge of the hole. “Anywhere else in the fort, and I’d say it’s just the jungle reclaiming the land,” he said. “But in this room… might have been deliberate.”

“So, somebody might’ve beaten us here.”

“Maybe.” Nate swung his legs over the edge of the floor, then dropped down, landing with a thud and a muffled grunt.

Elena shook her head. “But we’re still gonna check it out,” she said.

“Yep!” he called back cheerfully. “C’mon down, it’s clear.”

With a sigh, she followed his lead, lowering herself down as much as she could before she let go of the floor and fell. Nate caught her before she hit the floor, his hands around her waist slowing her drop enough that she landed easily.

Elena wrinkled her nose at him. “I could’ve made that on my own,” she said.

Nate shrugged, but left his hands where they were, hot against her skin with her shirt rucked up a few inches. “I know,” he replied with a grin. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, smirking, and on impulse leaned up to give him a quick kiss. Nate’s fingers tightened briefly on her waist, but before he could pull her closer she stepped away, tugging her shirt back into place.

“Where to now?” Elena asked as she stepped over a rotting log to peer down one of the two passages leading out of the room.

Nate shook his head slightly. “Not sure,” he said. He opened up his journal again, looked back and forth between the passages, then shrugged and headed for the one nearest Elena. “Let’s see where this goes.”

The first passage led to a dead end: the ceiling had collapsed, completely blocking the way forward, much to Nate’s frustration. He spent a few minutes prodding and pushing at the rubble; after pointing out once that he probably wasn’t going to be able to get through, Elena stood back and waited for him to accept that, once again, she’d been right.

Eventually Nate stepped back and raked a hand through his hair. “Dammit,” he muttered, glowering at the collapsed stones as though they’d been placed there to offend him personally. “Hopefully there’s another way around…” He pulled out his notebook and flattened it against the wall, then started sketching something.

“What’re you drawing?”

“Map of this area,” he said without looking up. “Should help us find a way back down here from the surface.”

If there was a way back down. Once Nate had finished and returned his journal to his pocket, Elena started walking back to the central room. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s see if we have better luck with door number two.”

Nate didn’t reply, and Elena glanced over her shoulder to see that his attention was on watching her ass rather than listening to anything she was saying. Not that she could judge—she’d certainly been enjoying the view while Nate had been trying to push through a pile of rock—but still. Nate noticed her looking and glanced up, then grinned, unrepentant. Elena rolled her eyes and kept walking.

They had better luck with the second passage, as it led to a narrow shaft rising back to the surface. The rotted remains of a wooden ladder clung to one wall, but besides that, there was no way up. “Here, I’ll boost you up,” Nate said. “See if you can find a rope or a crate or something.”

Typical Nathan-Drake-style plan: keeping pressing forward and hope for the best. “Okay,” Elena said, a bit uncertain. She carefully climbed onto Nate’s shoulders when he crouched down, then hauled herself up into the room. It looked like an officer’s quarters, she guessed, based on the layout and size. Elena glanced around for something that could help Nate, then frowned and crossed to one of the windows. The weather had changed drastically since they descended into the basement; it was still humid, but the sun had disappeared behind dark, roiling clouds, and wind whipped through the trees and underbrush outside.

“See anything?” Nate called.

“Uh…” Elena turned from the window and looked around the room again. No ropes or crates, but she was pretty sure she could move that stone block. “Yeah, hang on,” she called. “And stand back.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Nate,” Elena said, putting her shoulder to the block. It ground a few inches across the floor. Good thing she didn’t have far to go. “I’ll feel--” another push-- “terrible if I-- oof-- crush you.” She paused when she got the stone over to the edge of the hole. “You clear?”

“Yes!” Nate called back. Elena looked down and didn’t see him, which would have to be good enough. With one final push, she shoved the block over the edge. It landed with a resounding thump. After a moment, Nate reappeared at the bottom of the shaft. “Damn, no wonder you wanted me to stand back,” he said.

Elena just chuckled and shook her head, then crouched down to offer Nate a hand up. He scrambled up into the room and brushed himself off. “All right, let's go,” he said, heading back towards the hall.

“Go where?” Elena asked as she hurried after him. Nate's brain tended to work faster than his mouth, and it gave him a bad habit of failing to share important information, like where they were going or what he was looking for or why people were shooting at him.

“I checked my notes,” he said, “and it looks like there's another entrance to the basement in one of the other buildings. Probably our best bet for getting to the other side of that cave-in.”

Thunder rumbled and a spattering of heavy raindrops began to fall as they reached the archway leading back to the courtyard. Nate stopped again to check his notes and scowled as the wind whipped the pages around. “Dammit, just-- okay, it should be that one,” he said, pointing at a mostly intact building to their right. He pocketed the journal and started walking. “We should be able to make it there before it gets any--”

Worse, Elena assumed, but Nate didn't finish the sentence. Instead the skies opened in a torrential downpour, soaking them both to the skin within seconds. Nate stopped walking and looked up at the clouds, hands spread in disbelief. “Really!?”

Elena laughed. She'd be annoyed later, sure, when the storm stopped and everything she was wearing went back to being clingy and uncomfortable and gross. But right now, the rain felt amazing, washing away the sweat and grime of the day. “Just your luck,” she teased. “C'mon, let's get inside.”

They splashed their way across the paving stones to the next building and clambered through a hole in the wall. Inside was relatively dry, save for a small waterfall in the far corner of the room. Elena braced one hand against the wall as she leaned down to pull off her waterlogged sandals. “Hope the basement doesn't flood,” she commented, shaking excess water off her sandals before setting them aside. The floor here was pretty clear, nothing she was likely to cut herself on, and they could spend a few minutes drying off before continuing the search.

“Yeah,” Nate said distractedly.

Elena straightened up and took a breath to ask him if something was wrong. But before she could get the words out, Nate crossed the space between them in two long strides and kissed her hard, his hands tangled in her hair and his mouth hot against hers. Elena let out a startled squeak when her back hit the wall, and Nate huffed out a laugh as he drew back. He grinned at her, then ducked his head to press lingering kisses along her jaw.

Elena swallowed hard, already a little breathless. “Not-- not that I'm complaining,” that was obvious enough, what with one arm around his waist and her other hand on the back of his neck, “but what-- oh, god-- what happened to looking for treasure?”

He raised his head enough to nip at her earlobe before answering. “Already found it,” he replied, lips brushing against her ear.

She laughed, her face heating up despite how corny the line was. Nate kissed her again as his hands found their way under her soaked shirt, tracing patterns over her ribs and sliding up to rub against her breasts. Elena broke off the kiss with a moan and let her head fall back. She could hear him chuckling as he leaned down to trail his mouth along her collarbone; she reached up to twist her fingers tight into his hair and managed a satisfied grin when he groaned against her. He sucked at her skin, sending shivers down her spine, and it was only when he seemed on the verge of leaving bruises behind that she pulled at his hair to make him stop.

Nate drew back with a low whine, and Elena leaned up to kiss him, half in apology, half to make him stop complaining. His fingers traced lightly across her skin as they traded deep, searching kisses. Elena tugged at his shirt until she could do the same, her hands sliding over muscle and scars.

Eventually Nate shifted away a few inches, his hands dropping to her waist, where he made quick work of her belt and the fly on her shorts. He broke off the kiss so he could start peeling them off her; Elena reluctantly disentangled her hands from his shirt to help, vaguely wondering what he had in mind. She managed to wriggle out of her shorts and shivered at the chill left behind on her skin. Nate slid his hands back to her hips, planted a kiss on the side of her neck, and sank to his knees.

Oh.

Elena let out a shaky, gasping breath and swallowed hard. Nate glanced up at her and smirked, then leaned in to press a kiss to her inner thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on her hip. He drew back after a moment and pulled her underwear off her legs, then carefully hooked her knee over his shoulder. Elena frowned and shifted her weight to brace herself against the wall. “I’ve got you,” Nate murmured, his hands returning to her hips to steady her.

She breathed something that might have been “okay,” her voice a little too unsteady for actual words, and leaned her head back against the wall again. Nate nuzzled at her leg, teasing her with light kisses across her skin. Before she could get truly impatient, though, he brought his mouth to her, his tongue sliding over her clit. “Oh, god, Nate--” Elena trailed off with a moan. She instinctively tangled one hand in his hair to hold him close, while her other hand sought for purchase on the wall, something solid to hold onto.

Nate seemed content to take his time, his tongue and lips working gently against her, occasionally making soft, pleased sounds that Elena almost felt more than heard. He shifted easily between lapping at her, even strokes that pressed into her with each pass, and lightly toying with her clit, his tongue flicking over or circling around her. For all that he was taking things slow, he didn't tease her, either, giving her what she wanted whenever she found her voice enough to choke out “please” or “yes” or “more, god, just like that--”

It was a steady, unhurried build of heat and tension and need, and it left her gasping and trembling. She rocked her hips against him, trying to hold back at least a little, and brought her other hand to the back of his head. “Nate--” Her voice cracked, and she took a breath, started again. “Nate, please, don't-- don't stop, god, please--”

Nate groaned and shifted position slightly, one hand tightening on her hip as he pressed his mouth more firmly against her, his tongue thrusting deeper. He rubbed his fingers over her clit, and Elena arched her back, willing herself to hold on for just a little longer, anything to make this last. When she did come, gasping his name and hips bucking against him, Nate wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her even closer.

He didn't stop until she took her hands out of his hair. He pressed one more kiss to her thigh before easing her leg back to the ground, and Elena shuddered, hands against the wall, a little uncertain of her own balance. Nate sat back on his knees and looked up at her from under his lashes, eyes half-lidded with a mix of lust and satisfaction. He gave her a faint smile when she met his eyes, then very deliberately licked his lips, raising his hand to wipe off his chin.

Elena swallowed hard, then closed her eyes for a few moments while she started to catch her breath. When she opened them again, Nate was still watching her, his hands pressed flat against his thighs and his eyes on her face. She smirked and reached for her clothes, quickly slipping back into her shorts, then slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “C'mere,” she murmured, gesturing at him, and Nate obediently inched closer. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his mouth.

Nate drew back first, and she moved after him, unwilling to let him go for more than a breath or two. Elena slid her hand into his hair, lightly dragging her nails over his scalp, and smiled against his lips when he shivered. Her other hand slipped between his legs, and she rubbed her palm in light circles against him. Nate groaned, breaking off the kiss with a ragged gasp. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, eyes falling shut as he pressed his forehead to hers.

She smiled faintly and kept teasing him through the fabric of his jeans, running her fingers up and down the length of his cock. Nate curled one hand around her shoulder and braced the other on the wall behind her, his eyes still shut tight. After a few minutes, Elena tilted her head up and gave him a soft kiss, then moved both hands to his chest to lightly push him away.

He opened his eyes at that, glassy-eyed and a little bewildered. Elena just guided him to move over, reversing their positions, so he was sitting against the wall and she was kneeling between his legs. She leaned in to kiss him again as she reached down to undo his belt and jeans; Nate squirmed under her, whining a little at the indirect contact. “Shh,” Elena murmured and tugged his jeans down a bit.

He huffed out a breath. “Easy for you to say.”

Elena smirked and reached up to run her thumb along his lips. Nate nipped at her with a low growl, and she chuckled before leaning in to kiss him again. He kept his eyes shut when she pulled back, and Elena brushed one more light kiss to his mouth before reaching down to carefully pull his cock free of his clothes. Nate moaned, his head falling to the side and his hands balling into fists against his legs. Elena took one of his hands and moved it to her shoulder, rubbing his wrist for a few moments before pulling her hand back. She quietly spat into her hand, keeping her eyes on his face as she reached down to stroke him.

Nate made a sound that was half groan, half sigh of relief, his hand tightening on her shoulder. She watched him at first, memorizing the way he responded to her touch, how a slow drag of her fingers made his jaw tighten, how a gentle twist of her palm made his lips part and eyelids flutter. Eventually, though, she leaned in to trail her mouth over his neck, smiled against his skin as she felt his breath hitch. He brought his other hand to the back of her neck and turned his head to kiss her, hard and messy and a little desperate. “'lena, please,” he murmured, barely an inch of space between their lips. “I-- oh, god, please, just-- I need--”

She kissed him again, hard enough to press him into the wall a bit, and picked up the pace. He was close, all coiled tension and gasping breaths, hips coming up to meet her strokes. Elena drew back to see his face again, her free hand curled against his jaw. Nate turned his head towards her, his lips pressed to her palm, and finally came with a muffled groan.

Elena cradled his face in her hand, still watching him, feeling a little breathless herself. After a few moments Nate grabbed at her wrist, and she stopped, pulling her hand away and wiping it off as best she could on the wall behind him. Nate's eyes fluttered open, and he leaned forward just enough to give her a soft, lingering kiss.

When they parted, she smiled and brushed her nose against his, then sat back so he could pull his clothes together. While he tried to remember how zippers worked, Elena finished cleaning her hand off on the leg of his jeans. Nate made a face at her, and she shrugged, nodding at the rain. “Just go stand outside, you'll be clean again in two minutes,” she said with a smirk.

Nate grunted his disapproval of that plan and reached for her, pulling her against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. Elena grinned and shifted position a bit to get more comfortable. Apparently it didn't matter where they were, the post-coital cuddling wasn't going to be skipped. Nate sighed in contentment, then dipped his head to press a kiss to her hair. “You know,” Elena said, tilting her head back to look up at him, “there's probably no treasure here.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't leaning against. After a moment, he gave her a rakish grin and added, “Still, I'd say it was worth it.”

She chuckled and grinned back. “Yeah,” she said, settling her head against his chest again. “Definitely worth it.”

 


End file.
